


Checking for Fish

by ThroughTheTulips



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Derek has a sad past, Discussion of Adoption, F/M, M/M, Stiles' friends are the best friends, Unplanned Pregnancy, angst with an eventual happy ending, brief reference to abortion, but that's after all the angst, discussion of past injury, seriously derek isn't even in the first bit here but he will be, so that's mentioned briefly, stiles is NOT suicidal at any point but his friends worry, the sterek will take a while, there is even some fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-02
Updated: 2016-01-14
Packaged: 2018-04-02 11:54:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 39,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4059025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThroughTheTulips/pseuds/ThroughTheTulips
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the Bitetime Festival on Tumblr with the prompt "When a teenager gets his SO pregnant, their families want to put the baby up for adoption, but he's not so sure."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Step One: Find a Mud Puddle

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic in this fandom, so please be gentle. 
> 
> The references to abortion are very brief and non-graphic. You can check the end notes for specifics.
> 
> This title comes from a quote, author unknown: "You can avoid having ulcers by adapting to the situation: If you fall in the mud puddle, check your pockets for fish." What does it mean? I don't know, but I feel like Stiles would like it.

 

**Step One: Find a Mud Puddle**

            “Stiles? Can you come in here for a minute?”

            There was an edge to his dad’s voice, something off that made Stiles pause his movie. He jogged downstairs, going through everything he’d done in the past few days. He wasn’t in trouble in school. He hadn’t forgotten any chores. In fact, he cleaned the whole kitchen yesterday to purge some hefty post-Supernatural emotions. He and Lydia were working towards early acceptance to UC Berkley next year, so he hadn’t even been spending much time playing video games. As far as he knew he was the perfect son.

            Confident, he jumped the last two steps and started talking as he rolled into the dining room. “What’s up, Daddy-o? Oh hey, is that from Berkley? I sent the paperwork last month and I’m basically having a heart attack every time the mail comes.”

            John looked up from the letter in his hand. “It’s not from Berkley, Stiles. Sit down.”

            “Ooo-kay, that doesn’t sound ominous or anything.” Stiles dropped into a chair opposite his father, drumming his fingers on the table. He saw the return address on the empty envelope and grabbed it. “Dalbec and Grant… this is a Berkley address, though.”

            “Dalbec and Grant are lawyers,” his father said stiffly. “They want me to take you to some doctor for a blood test.”

            The boy blinked. “A blood test? Why do I need a blood test?”

            “To establish paternity.”

            Stiles laughed out loud. “Someone thinks you’re not my dad? I mean wow, I know I take after Mom but that’s kind of pushing it.”

            “That’s not-” John sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “I really have to explain this, Stiles? It’s not for me, it’s for you.”

            That- what? “What?”

            “The letter is from a law firm outside Berkley asking for a paternity test,” his father explained. “Someone named Heather Matthews. Ring any bells?”

            Stiles felt the blood drain from his face. “That’s… not possible.”

            “No?” the sheriff asked, raising his eyebrows. “So you didn’t sleep with her?”

            “No! I mean yes, but we totally used protection. Like, all the protection. I used a condom both times, and I know I used it right because you made me watch that deeply traumatizing video with the dildo. Which, by the way, made me feel inadequate until I got up the nerve to look around in the locker room so thanks for that.” Stiles realized he was babbling but couldn’t stop. His chest felt tight, every breath coming a little harder than the last, and the envelope dug into his hand where he had crumpled it. “You bought me those condoms, they were the right size and everything and it was just one night, we don’t even talk anymore since she moved last-”

            “Breathe,” John interrupted. He moved around to put a hand on his son’s back, rubbing little circles. This wasn’t the first panic attack they’d been through. “Just breathe, son. In and out.”

            It took a few minutes. Stiles kept freaking out every time he caught sight of the letter, but eventually the pressure eased from his chest and he could breathe again. He leaned back against his father. “Sorry. Sorry, I just…”

            “It’s okay. This came out of nowhere for me, too.” The man gave him another pat before moving back to the chair. He picked up the letter, folding it into his back pocket, then rubbed his jaw. “I thought I didn’t have to worry about this with you, not after catching you parking with that Danny kid.”

            Stiles flushed. That hadn't been his finest hour, though Danny thought it was hilarious. “I told you, I like both. It was just them anyway, I’m not slutting it up all over town. Not that there’s a problem with getting your freak on, no slut shaming here, I just… Heather was the, you know, the first and only. The only girl, anyway, obviously me and Danny have-”

            John winced. “I don’t need a play by play. Just- you’re sure you used protection?”

            “So sure. So very much of the sure.”

            “Then I believe you,” he said simply. “But accidents happen, and condoms can fail. I’ll make the appointment, all right? No sense worrying until we have the results. For now, try to stay calm.”

            His son dropped the wrinkled envelope. “I should call Heather.”

            “Hold off on that. The lawyers don’t want you to contact any of the Matthews family until we have the results.”

            Trying not to show how much of a relief that was, especially when he felt so shaky, Stiles nodded. “Okay. Um. Do you need anything from me?”

            “Actually, yeah.” John dug out his wallet and passed over a folded bill. “Go get a pizza. Meat lovers. God knows I deserve it right now.”

            The boy nodded, leaning away to grab his hoodie. “Right, meat lovers. That’s fine.” Then, unable to resist, he added, “And I can grab a salad, too. Just to round us out. Your blood pressure was still too high last time.”

            "Whose fault is that?”

            It was an old joke, usually affectionate. Today it made Stiles flinch, and John swore. “Hell, kiddo, I didn’t mean-”

            “I know,” the boy interrupted. “It’s fine. I’ll be back in forty minutes, give or take.” He managed a weak smile and got out before things got weirder.

 ****

            Two hours later, full of pizza and self-recrimination, Stiles flopped back on his bed. He couldn’t even begin to think about finishing the movie. Memories of Heather’s birthday party ran through his mind: the overlarge crowd, pretending to drink a beer that tasted like an ashtray, Heather’s hand pulling him upstairs to her room.

            _“Have you ever… you know?”_

_“Uh… we’re talking about sex, right?”_

_A giggle, slightly higher than usual. “Yes, Stiles, I’m talking about sex. With a girl, not whatever you and Scott get up to.”_

_“Whoa, hey, it’s not like that with us. Scott’s like my brother. Anyway, he’s pretty much the straightest guy on Earth.”_

_“And you’re not?” The question was light, playful. “People talk about you, Stiles. They say you go both ways. That’s kind of hot.”_

_“Really? Because don’t get me wrong, that’s awesome to hear, but most people have a huge problem with that part. Most girls kind of assume I’m gay and haven’t figured it out yet.”_

_“It’s cool. My aunt is bi and she married a guy, so I figure it doesn’t matter.”_

_“That… wow, Heather, you are really open-minded. Like, I don’t even know what to say to that. Thanks? Can I say thanks?”_

_“After you take my shirt off, maybe.”_

            She’d been nervous but eager, with a list of things she wanted to try. When he came almost immediately the first time Heather just laughed and showed him how to help her finish. It gave him the confidence to manage a more successful round later on. That led to sleep, some x-rated snuggling, and friendly aimless groping in the shower the next morning. They’d parted with hugs rather than kisses, both happy with the encounter but uninterested in anything further. It was pretty much a perfect first time.

            Now she was pregnant.

            Stiles blew out a shaky breath. He felt a churning mixture of panic and guilt over having gotten Heather into this situation. She wanted to be a doctor, badly enough that her mother had taken a job at Berkeley to ensure her acceptance. This was going to throw a huge spanner in the works. How was he supposed to help from Beacon Hills? Would he have to move now, too? His dad’s term wasn’t up for another two years even if he didn’t get reelected, so Stiles would have to go by himself. That was going to be a serious problem. No one would rent an apartment to a sixteen year old- wait, would he still be sixteen?

            Without really meaning to he did the math in his head. Heather’s birthday party was in the beginning of October, which meant the baby was due in July sometime. It would be around six months along by now. What did a six month fetus even look like? Was it still an alien blob, or was it mostly a person? Health class had totally failed him. Stiles went to his desk and opened his laptop, telling himself he was just curious.

            He didn’t notice time passing until his dad spoke from the doorway. “Stiles? Why are you in sitting in the dark?”

            He blinked and looked around. It was pretty dark. He hit the desk lamp and winced at the sudden glare. “Ow. Um. Sorry, I was kind of absorbed.”

            John came up behind him, bending to see the screen. His body went still. “What’s all this?”

            “Nothing. Well, not nothing,” Stiles amended, embarrassed by how many tabs he had open. “I’m just- just looking.”

            “These are baby blogs,” his father said slowly. “Why are you reading baby blogs?”

            The boy’s eyebrows shot up. “I can’t believe you’re asking me that.”

            “No, I mean…” John sat on the edge of the bed, looking tired and sad. “Stiles, those lawyers work for an adoption agency. Heather wants to establish paternity so you can sign a release of parental rights with her. Didn’t you read the letter?”

            The letter was jammed in a drawer. Stiles still got dizzy when he saw the crisp folded paper. “I thought we were supposed to talk about that. If the test is positive.”

            “Is it going to be positive, Stiles?”

            He sighed and rubbed his face. “We were safe, but… I mean, it was her first time, too. It’s not like she has ten dudes it could be. She’s a nice person, Dad.”

            They sat there for a minute in silence. After a while John said, “I got a call from UC Berkeley yesterday.”

            “And you didn’t say anything?” Stiles yelped. “Not cool!”

            “I wanted you to be surprised when the letter came,” his father said with a slight smile. “Anyway. They’re going to offer you a full ride if you can keep your position as Salutorian. A full ride, Stiles. This is everything we’ve been working for. You know it’s not going to be an option without the scholarship, and having a baby around for your last year of high school is a major handicap.”

            The excitement of being accepted faded a little. “I know.”

            “You aren’t dating Heather. You haven’t even talked to her in months, and she’s pushing for adoption. That means she probably won’t help.”

            Stiles closed his browser, clicking the little x with unnecessary force. “I know! Dad, I don’t think it would be some walk in the park or anything. The whole idea scares the crap out of me. How can I even afford a kid? I’m sixteen, the best job I’m gonna get involves flipping burgers. Most of your money is still going to pay off Mom’s hospital bills. We’re lucky we have the house-” He caught the hitch in his father’s expression and stopped. “What?”

            The sheriff cleared his throat. “I was planning to sell the house when you left for college. It would cover the bills and pay for a condo. I can put it off, but I have to retire at some point, and my pension isn’t going to be huge.”

            “Right, yeah. Just.” He studied his knee, unable to look at his father. “I made this person. It’s half me, like actually mine, and if I end up with a dude there’s no guarantee this will happen again. I want to try.” He took a deep breath. “Can I try?”

            “Stiles, you can’t-” John made a frustrated noise. “Would you please give it some thought? This doesn’t have to mean never seeing the child again. They have open adoptions where you can have visitation, letters, all of that. Heather doesn’t want that, but if you do I’m sure the lawyers can arrange it. You don’t have to give up your whole future because of one mistake.”

            One mistake. Technically that’s what this was, a mistake. An accident. Stiles felt his eyes burn and spun back to his computer. “I’ll, uh, I’ll think about it. There’s still some homework I have to do for tomorrow, so.”

            “It’s past eleven.”

            “Yeah, so I better get working.”

            He opened a random document from his school folder and stared fixedly at it. When he heard John leave he slumped in the chair. His dad had a good point- a lot of them, actually. Adoption wasn’t the final good-bye it used to be, and the parents went through tons of background checks. They were way better equipped than he was. The baby would probably be better off with two parents, not one spastic teenager. Maybe he felt attached already, but was that enough? Was he being selfish?

            There didn’t seem to be an easy answer. Stiles shut his laptop and went to bed.


	2. Step Two: Fall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is pretty angsty, but it's worth it. I think. I guess we'll see.

 

            The clinic chosen by the lawyers was small, posh, and efficient. They offered an appointment for the same morning when John called over breakfast. He started to refuse, saying it was too soon to cover his shift, but Stiles waved to stop him. “This place is closed on weekends,” he argued. “If we put it off I can’t get in until Monday. Do you really want to wait that long?”

            His dad made a face but said, “I guess it would be best to handle this quickly. I have to sign you in, though.”

            “Cool. I’ll just follow you in the Jeep, then.”

            “Uhuh,” John said, ruffling his hair. “You’re having blood drawn. If you faint, I don’t want you driving home. Call Scott, it’ll be lunchtime for him when you’re done.”

            Stiles chewed his lip. “I’d have to tell him why. Is that allowed? Are we gonna get in trouble with the lawyers?”

            The Sheriff rose to put his coffee cup away. “Frankly I’m surprised you haven’t told him already. Go get dressed, you can hang out at the station until it’s time to drop you off.” He redirected his attention to the patient receptionist on the phone. “Yes, that’s fine. See you at ten thirty.” His son sighed but obediently began texting.

            Loyal as ever, Scott was waiting in his mother’s minivan when Stiles came out of the clinic. He started waving the instant he saw his friend. “Dude! Over here! Do you need help or anything?”

            “I can walk, Scotty,” Stiles shot back, though he couldn’t help a grin at the other boy’s excitement. “It was one little vial of blood.”

            Scott’s eyes went to the red bandage around his friend’s arm. “So you didn’t pass out?”

            “Dude, it was a vial of my own blood. Of course I passed out.” The nurses had been pretty nice about it, settling him down with juice and cookies until the room stopped swimming. “But that was like twenty minutes ago. I’m fine now.”

            Scotty reached across to unlock the door. “I brought you a milkshake,” he said, pointing to one of two cups between the seats. “Mom says it’s good to give someone sugar after a shock.”

            “Well, I’ve had one hell of a shock, so thanks,” Stiles said as he climbed in.

            “I still can’t believe this,” Scott burst out. “You’ve had sex exactly six times, and only two of those were with a girl!” The boy waved for emphasis and nearly knocked over his shake. “What are the odds of this even happening?”

            “Two percent with proper condom usage,” Stiles recited. He’d read a lot last night. “And you know I used it right, Dad got that video from your mom.”

            His friend paled. “Don’t remind me, that thing was the worst.” He lowered his voice. “So? What’s the verdict?”

             “I just gave the blood, Scotty. They won’t know for two to three days. But, um.” He took a sip of the milkshake, still a little shaky. “If Heather says it’s mine, it’s mine. She wouldn’t make that kind of mistake.”

            Scott sat back, eyes round. “Dude. You’re someone’s _dad_!” His face broke out in a grin. “Congrats, man. I mean, I know it’s gonna be hard and you’re both really young and you’re not into each other anymore and-”

            “Did you just say Stiles is a father?”

            They flinched in unison and turned to find Lydia Martin ten feet away, a scowl beginning to crease her face. Stiles barely kept from face-palming. “What are you doing here?”

            “Jackson and I get tested every three months,” she said as if it were obvious. “Like responsible sexually active people, which Stiles is apparently not.”

            Scott shot his friend an apologetic glance. “Uh, I meant in a computer game?” he tried. “The Sims, you know? His Sim just had a little baby.”

            She crossed her arms. “How is that different from the forty two alien babies he made it have last month when he was trying to see if there was a limit to how many children one person could make before aging up to elder?”

            Stiles dropped his head to the dashboard, wishing he were invisible. “That was for science.”

            “That was ridiculous, and this is even worse.” The girl yanked open the back door and got in. “Let’s go.”

            “Where? Wait, I thought you were getting a test done,” Scott said, putting the van in gear anyway. “Don’t you still have to?”

            She pulled out her phone. “This is more important. Drive to Josephine’s while I reschedule. Stiles is going to buy me lunch and tell me everything, then we’re working out how this isn’t going to ruin our plans.”

            Stiles thought of the letter, crammed into his jacket pocket. He swallowed a knot of unhappiness. “Lydia, there isn’t… there might not be anything to worry about, okay?” Scott gasped and stomped on the brake, throwing everyone against their seatbelts. “Dude, what the hell?”

            “Sorry, sorry, just…” Scott gave him the patented McCall puppy eyes. “Is she not keeping it? Your baby?”

            Lydia whacked him with her purse, hissing, “Don’t be a moron. She must be six months gone, it’s nearly viable by now. Will you please drive?”

            He muttered an apology and pulled out of the parking lot. Stiles stared at Lydia. “How did you know?” he asked. “Did she tell you?”

            “You told me, idiot,” she reminded him. “Two weeks after her birthday party. The only person you’ve dated since then is Danny, so unless you’re going to tell me you got him pregnant the only thing I want to hear is why you didn’t use a damn condom.”

            The boy blew out a sigh and ran his fingers through his hair, frustrated. “I did. I really, really did, and that question is already getting old.”

            “It’s probably worse for Heather,” Lydia pointed out. Her attention was split between them and sending a text. “I assume she’s considering adoption, since you said this might not be a problem.”

            “That’s what the lawyers say. I can’t talk to her until the test comes back.”

            His friend narrowed her eyes, watching his face. “And how do you feel about that?”

            The unhappiness was back, or maybe it had never left. “Not great, to be honest, but… Dad and I talked about it a little. He thinks I should go along with it. The adoption thing. They have ones where I can still see the baby and, like, get pictures and all that.”

            “Adoption would solve the problem nicely. Jackson’s adopted.”

            “Not a good example,” Scott moaned. “Jackson’s such a douche.”

            Lydia smacked him again. “He’s a well-educated young man with parents that can provide everything he needs. Adoption did good things for him. If you choose this, though, you won’t be very active in the child’s life,” she said. Her voice was brisk, no tone to give away her feelings on the subject. “Even if the adoptive parents allow visitation, you won’t be seen as its father. Is that something you can live with?”

            Stiles turned to look out the window. He didn’t have an answer for her, not yet. To be honest, he wasn’t sure he wanted to think about it too much. Everything seemed to be weighing on the side of adoption. The baby would be happier. His dad would be happier. Stiles could go off to college and figure out what he wanted to do with his shiny Berkeley degree. It was the smart choice, that much was sure.

            So why did the idea of it make his stomach hurt?

           

            A registered letter from Dalbec and Grant arrived Wednesday afternoon. Stiles drove it to the station and fidgeted outside his father’s office until the shift meeting was over, then ducked in before anyone beat him to it. “It’s here,” he said, tossing the letter on the desk. “Now what?”

            “Now I read it,” John said. He slit the envelope open. “Grab me some coffee, would you? We caught an out of state runner last night, I’ve been in meetings all morning trying to get him back to Texas.”

            “One coffee, coming up.” Stiles dashed out to the station’s coffee maker. Of course it was empty. He made a fresh pot and poured two cups, adding a couple of bananas from the break room before carting everything back to the Sheriff’s office. His dad was hanging up the phone as he came in. “So?

            John accepted a cup of coffee and took a long sip. “You already knew what the test would say.”

            Stiles’ insides did a funny little flip. “Yeah, I guess I did.”

            There was a little silence where both of them waited for the other to speak. John set his cup down and folded his hands. “So. We have an appointment next week with the attorney. In this state release of custody has to be signed after birth, so this will mostly just be a review of available options.”

            “So I do have options?” the boy asked. “I wasn’t kidding, Dad, I want to try and work this out.”

            “Well, Heather doesn’t,” his dad countered. “The lawyers say she’s in a panic about this whole thing. She’s worried about school, and you should be, too. This isn’t a game.”

            Stiles shoved the bananas across the desk. “Eat those, I know you skipped breakfast. And I’m not trying to play a game.”

            “You want to take custody? Great. Then what?” John didn’t sound angry or accusatory. He just sounded tired. “You don’t have a job or a savings account and I’m barely keeping us above water. Most of my money is tied up in the house. When I sell I’ll have enough to pay off the bills, buy a smaller place that I can afford on my pension. Unless you plan to support me in my old age I need to sell this house. Where do you suggest we keep a baby in a condo?”

            “I can put a crib in my room,” his son suggested. “We only need to make it work for a year until I can-”

            The sheriff cut him off with a raised eyebrow. “Until you can what? Take the baby off to college? Wear it in a sling while you do homework?”

            “Yes!” Stiles ran a hand through his hair, nervous but feeling stubborn. It wasn’t the dumbest idea he’d ever had. In fact, it was starting to sound like exactly what he wanted. “Would that be so crazy? Girls do it. Melissa McCall put herself through nursing school while Scotty was in diapers. Why couldn’t I do the same thing?” He crossed his arms. “Look, I get that you’re against this but it’s my choice. I want to at least consider it. Are you going to help me or not?”

            John sighed and spun back to his desk. He ate one of the bananas in silence, looking through the papers on his desk. At length he turned back. “I think this is a mistake, but you’re right. It’s your mistake to make. I will set up a meeting with Heather and her parents. Convince Heather to agree and I’ll back you up. If she won’t agree you sign the adoption papers, maybe get visitation or whatever makes you happy, and move on with your life. Deal?”

            “Deal,” Stiles said at once. He could talk Heather around, he was sure of it. “You won’t regret this, Dad.”

            Blue eyes met his across the desk. “I just hope you don’t, son.”


	3. Step Three: Face Meets Mud

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles meets with Heather to discuss the fate of the baby.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this came late! I am at a relative's house and oddly, there is not reliable internet here. I know, I was shocked too.

 

            Dalbec and Grant weren’t happy to hear about Stiles’ hesitation. John argued with them for nearly fifteen minutes before they agreed to speak to the Matthews family. A deep frown creased his face as he hung up. “Heather seems pretty invested in this adoption,” he told Stiles. “She left orders with them not to take no for an answer. If the lawyers didn’t need your signature I don’t think they would still be talking to us.”

            “But they do, right? Need my signature?” Stiles asked. He’d been looking up paternity rights on his phone during the call, and he was pretty sure he knew where he stood. “In California both parents have to relinquish custody.”

            The sheriff made a see-sawing gesture with his hand. “Usually. This is a special case.”

            That sounded ominous. “How is it a special case? Because we’re not married?”

            “Because you’re both minors,” John said gently. “If you won’t sign, the lawyers are going to file a report with CCS. That’s-”

            “California Children’s Services, yeah,” Stiles finished, heart sinking. “I don’t have a criminal record or anything, though. They don’t know what kind of- of parent I’d be. What can they do?”

            His dad’s face was gentle but firm. “They can remand the baby into state custody pending an investigation if they think it won’t have a safe place to live. Without my backing you’re not very likely to be granted custody, and I meant what I said. If Heather doesn’t agree I’m not letting that baby in this house. She must have a reason to be so determined. This isn’t just about you, she’s involved too.”

            The boy jumped up to pace, making a frustrated gesture. “It’s completely ridiculous! She doesn’t want the baby, I do. Why can’t she just-”

            “Casually hand her baby off to another teenager?” John caught his gaze and held it sternly. “The burden of this situation is on Heather. You made this mistake together but she’s the one paying most of the cost. I mean that physically and emotionally. People expect a lot from women when it comes to babies, and neither of us can understand what she’s going through. If you ever cared about her- if you’re the kind of man who can do what you’re asking to do- you need to respect her point of view. Can you do that?”

            Stiles wanted to argue. He wanted to point out how unfair this was to him, how stubborn Heather was being, how whatever reason she might have couldn’t hold up against his rights- but his dad was right. Heather was doing the heavy lifting. Her opinion had to count for something, even if he didn’t agree. He slumped into a chair. “Yeah. I can do that.”

            He just had to make a good impression on Heather.

 

            The first step to becoming a responsible adult was getting a job. Normal jobs open to a sixteen-year-old wouldn’t pay for the scary amount of baby equipment Stiles hoped to need, so he tried to think outside the box. His spent his time between classes was spent scrolling through online listings. “If I could find, like, a writing job or a steady tutoring job that would be perfect,” he told Scotty at lunch Friday. “No one cares how old you are for those as long as you know your stuff.”

            “That’s an awesome idea,” his friend enthused. “I found some ads that could work, too.”

            Stiles craned his neck to look at his friend’s phone. “Dude. That’s Craigslist. Those are ads for strippers.”

            “This one says ‘model’.”

            “Model means stripper,” the younger boy said. “I think you have to be eighteen for that anyway. Let’s try for something legal, okay?”

            Someone smacked the back of his head. He jerked up, rubbing the sore spot, and glared at the guy sliding onto the bench by Scott. “Thanks, Jackson. I didn’t get enough of that this year, this one’ll last me over the summer.”

            “Shut it, Stilinski. I’m trying to help you,” Jackson growled, shoving a paper across the table. “Lydia says you’re looking for a job when you should be worrying about finals. It’s pissing her off, so… here.”

            Stiles looked at the paper, then blinked and looked again. “Uh, wow, this is… Jackson, is this your dad’s letterhead? He’s not gonna hire a teenager.”

            “Just read it.” The older boy grabbed Scott’s brownie and shoved half of it in his mouth. “Whittemore Associates hires pages for research, errands, that kind of thing. I do it sometimes when my dad gets bitchy about my credit card. It pays fifteen bucks an hour, twenty hours a week minimum. More if they send you out of town. Sometimes you have to drive papers to another city or go to a conference or whatever.”

            That was a problem. “I gonna have a kid.”

            “I heard,” Jackson said around the brownie. “I’m still shocked your dick works, I had you pegged as a total bottom.”

            Stiles made a face and kept reading. “Only five hours a week in office, the rest online… that’s actually really good. This would be perfect _if I wasn’t gonna have a kid._ I can’t take a job with out of town travel.”

            “Chill the hell out, I already cleared it. You’re golden.”

            The other boys exchanged confused looks. “Wait, you already cleared it?” Scott asked. “What does that mean?”

            “I talked to my dad, okay? He’s fine with it, says he doesn’t care if Stilinski carries the kid around as long as his shit gets done. Dad says to come in Monday sometime for the paperwork.”

            It seemed too good to be true. Stiles folded the paper gently, reverently, and slid it into his wallet. “I don’t know why you’re helping me, but thanks. Really. You’re saving my ass right now.”

            Jackson stood, clearly uncomfortable. “Don’t make it weird, Stilinski, and don’t be late.” He gave Stiles a withering once over. “And I’m sending Lydia to dress you so you don’t embarrass me. I put my ass on the line with my dad for this.”

            Stiles watched him leave, feeling dazed. “Scotty, did Jackson Whittemore just do me a favor?”

            “I think that’s a sign of the apocalypse,” Scott said solemnly. “Think this’ll look good to Heather?”

            “A job at a major law firm? It’s going to blow her away.” He powered down his laptop with a sense of satisfaction. Things were falling into place. He might actually pull this off.

 

            The Whittemore job took what little time he had outside class. Stiles was relieved when the school year ended and he could devote most of his day to it. He went from picking up dry cleaning and coffee to pulling old case files to doing full-on research. In the month he waited to hear from the lawyers he progressed to preparing reports on seemingly random topics. Some of them didn’t seem like they could be related to a lawsuit, but since he was paid he didn’t care. Whittemore wanted to know every movie about dolphins that had ever been released? Easy. He asked for three pages on the history of railroads? Stiles sent him four and an extra two-page profile on Chinese rail workers. It was an enormous amount of work, but he found it satisfying to know he was making decent money.

            When he wasn’t researching for Whittemore he did his own. He made a list of everything he might need for the first year of a baby’s life, pored through parenting blogs, and grilled Melissa McCall for advice. A few days before his meeting he even took an infant first aid and CPR course. Stiles printed up his bank statement, reflecting a small but growing balance, and stuck it in a folder with the CPR certificate. When his father told him the meeting with Heather was the next Saturday, he felt more excited than nervous. “Cool. I’m ready.”

            John snorted. “The fact that you think so means you’re probably not.”

            “Melissa says no one is ever really ready.”

            His dad gave him a strange look, half proud and half worried. “I wish you wouldn’t have your hopes up so high. You don’t even know what she’s going to say.”

            A flicker of uncertainly broke through his nervous anticipation. “You think she’ll turn me down?”

            “I think she had to be coaxed into this meeting. I think she didn’t even want to take it, and I’m afraid-” He blew out a heavy sigh. “Stiles, I’m worried it’s going to break your heart when she says no.”

            Stiles looked at the folder. It showed a funny comic scene, Black Panther hanging off a wire with the words “hang in there, kitty!” across the bottom. He traced the letters with a finger. “She won’t.”

            “She can. Frankly, it’s the most likely scenario,” John pointed out. “I hate to burst your bubble, son, but you need to prepare yourself for the worst.”

 

            His words haunted Stiles all week. By the time Saturday rolled around he was a nervous wreck. He dragged himself out of bed, yawned through a shower, and dressed in the neat button-up and khakis Lydia had picked out for him. As slow as he seemed to be going, he got to Josephine’s twenty minutes before their meeting.

            Without his folder.

            He’d put so much work into it and now he had nothing to show Heather. Stiles nearly turned around to get it, but twenty minutes wasn’t enough time. If he went home he risked being late. Besides, Melissa had told him being a parent meant rolling with change. This could be a sort of pressure test. The boy took a deep breath, ordered drinks, and found a table.

            The meeting time came and went. They were supposed to meet at nine, but half an hour went by with no sign of Heather. It was nerve-wracking. Stiles had his phone out to text his dad when the girl hurried through the café door. She scanned the room until she saw him and walked over. “Sorry I’m late. There was a lot of traffic on the freeway.”

            “Fine, it’s fine,” Stiles said, fighting to keep his eyes on her face. They kept travelling to the rounded swell of her stomach, the way it popped out when she sat down. He cleared his throat and handed her a cup. “I got you a drink. It should still be hot, these travel cups are amazing.”

            Heather ducked her head, blushing hard. “Thanks. Um. I can’t have coffee. It’s bad-”

            “For the baby, I know. I got you green tea,” he said. “Peppermint. It’s supposed to help with morning sickness.”

            “I don’t get morning sickness anymore,” she told him. “I barely got any at all. Guess I’m lucky like that.”

            “Dude, luck is kind of this kid’s middle name. It’s lucky this even happened.” He regretted his awkward joke the minute her smile faded. “Oh man, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I know this has been awful for you. I didn’t mean… anything, really.”

            “Yeah, okay.” She took a sip of the tea and set it down. “I guess we should get to talking.”

            Stiles rubbed his palms on his jeans, nerves returning full force. “Guess so.”

            The girl met his eyes. “So you want it. The baby, I mean.” He nodded, and she sighed. “I don’t.”

            “That’s okay.”

            “It’s not okay, Stiles,” Heather retorted. “It’s really not okay. I can’t… I was going to get an abortion, but my parents wouldn’t sign the paperwork. They’re Catholic, you know? The first ultrasound said it was a boy and they were going to raise it as my baby brother. Mom said we could go away until it was born, somewhere we could just put her name on the birth certificate and bring it back here.”

            There was a strange little flutter in Stiles’ stomach. “It’s a boy?”

            She let out a breathy little laugh. “Girl. Isn’t that crazy? They usually make mistakes the other way. The lady at the second ultrasound thought it was funny.” Her hands folded around her cup as if of their own volition. “Of course my parents don’t want it now, because apparently girls are too much trouble and never mind that they said that to their _daughter_. It’s too late for my first choice. All that’s left is adoption.”

            “I can take her,” Stiles said, heartbeat tripping into a faster pace. A girl, it was a girl. “Heather, I can take her. I have a pretty good job and I’m working it out with UC Berkeley.” It was mostly true.

            “That’s not…” Heather took an overlarge sip of tea before continuing. “I can’t have a kid. I don’t want it. I don’t want someone coming to find me in eighteen years calling me Mommy. I’m not a bad person, I just don’t… I don’t even like babysitting. I want to get this whole thing over with and get on with my life.”

            He realized he was squeezing his cup hard enough to bend it and forced his hands to relax. “That can happen,” he promised. “I won’t come after you for anything.”

            “If I give her to you, she might find out who I am. I can’t risk that. I won’t.” The girl stood abruptly. “We shouldn’t be doing this. I thought I could talk you out of this, change your mind.”

            Stiles surged to his feet. “You never have to see us again. I won’t tell her your name. I’ll leave the whole state even, I swear.”

            She shook her head fiercely. “No, this is-” Heather put her hands over her ears, backing away. “I only came to tell you in person. I thought you deserved that much.”

            “Don’t do this. Heather, please don’t do this,” he begged.

            “The lawyers will call you when it’s born. Just sign the papers, okay? It’s mostly a formality. Dad says no court will give a seventeen year old custody when his parents are against it, and the Sheriff told me he’d only agree if I do.” She opened the door without looking back. “And I don’t. Goodbye, Stiles.”

            Before he could say anything else she was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry, guys. I warned you there was angst. Don't worry, I meant it when I said happy ending.


	4. Step Four: A Little Wallow Never Hurt Anybody

            It felt like someone had ripped Stiles’ heart out. The baby was alive and probably destined for some apple-pie life, but Stiles couldn’t help the sense that he'd lost her. “It’s like- like I know her already,” he told Lydia. They were sprawled across his bed, Berkeley catalogs lying forgotten beside them. “Before I knew she was a girl, even.”

            “You don’t know her,” his friend said, bumping his shoulder with hers. “Maybe you just love the idea of a baby.”

            He considered that for a moment before shaking his head. “I don’t expect anything specific from her. I just want to show her stuff, see how she turns out. Make sure she loves comics. That kind of thing.”

            “You can still do that. Don’t you get visitation?”

            Two days after the disastrous meeting with Heather, John had taken his devastated son to the offices of Dalbec and Grant. The lawyers asked him to forfeit regular contact. They suggested that children with no restrictions were easier to place, grew up more happily, but Stiles knew better from his research. He let himself push for as much as the agency would give. “It’s gonna be a partially open adoption. I get pictures four times a year, visits twice. The family Heather picks can offer me more, but that much is guaranteed until she’s eighteen.”

            Lydia frowned. “The family she picks? She doesn’t have one in mind?”

            “Not that they told me, but they didn’t tell me much.” Dalbec, the hefty pale-skinned lawyer who’d led the negotiations, barely said anything about the selection process. She seemed personally offended he wouldn’t just sign and disappear into the night. John had to threaten her with social workers before she’d admit visitations were possible. “They drew up the contract and told me they’d call when they need my signature.”

            She toyed with a brochure, dissatisfaction twisting her face. “So that’s it? After everything, you don’t have any more say than that?”

            Tears stung Stiles’ eyes. He swiped them away, unwilling to start crying again. It seemed like he hadn’t done anything else since The Visit. “I checked with Jackson’s dad. He says his firm won’t take a custody case against Dalbec and Grant, then offered me another research project.”

            “Seriously?” Lydia snorted. “I hope you threw it in his face.”

            “No way. I took it. My job is pretty much the only thing keeping me going right now.”

            That was almost scarily true. Months of summer lay before him with nothing to fill them. Lydia’s family were heading to Europe. Scott had to spend May and June with his dad in Texas. Crime always picked up in the summer months, meaning the Sheriff worked a lot of doubles, so working was the one thing that could keep Stiles distracted from his misery. In the week since The Visit he’d billed thirty hours. That might not even be legal for a minor in California, but no one called him on it and the money was nice.

            Not like he had anything to save for anymore.

            The tears came back, and this time he let them fall. “This sucks.” He smushed his face into the bed. “This really sucks.”

            Instead of telling him to toughen up, Lydia tugged him over so his head was in her lap. She carded her fingers through his hair. “Stiles, do I need to cancel my trip?”

            Stiles blinked up at her. “Huh?”

            “Do I need to cancel my trip?” she repeated. “Or do you need to come with us? I’m sure I could talk my parents into it. My mother’s worried, anyway.”

            “Your mom worries about me?” he asked in surprise. “I didn’t know she even liked me.”

            The girl shook her head, amused. “Mom thinks you’re fantastic. She can leave you alone with me without worrying and you keep Jackson on his toes. I know she wouldn’t mind buying an extra ticket to Paris.”

            A few months ago being invited on a Martin family vacation would have been cause for a victory dance. Now it only made him tired. “Thanks, but I’d only be a drag on the party.”

            “You’re my friend.” Lydia sounded fierce, protective in a way she rarely showed. “I don’t care if you’re a drag, I’m not leaving you here when you’re this depressed.”

            Stiles leaned into her hand. “Go to France,” he told her. “Have fun. I’ll still be here when you get back.”

            “Promise?”

            He laughed. Lydia didn’t. Incredulous, the boy sat up. “Lydia, you don’t really think I’d kill myself, do you?”

            “You’ve dropped at least five pounds, so you’re not eating.” The edge to her voice was fear, he realized. “You skipped a Marvel movie premiere with Scott before he left. I haven’t seen you without red eyes in a week. The Sheriff says he barely sees you and when he does you don’t talk to him.”

            Stiles winced. He couldn’t look at his father without thinking about the baby, about how he’d have a good case for custody if John would speak for him. “What does he expect?” he said bitterly. “He told Heather he was against this, did you know that? He told her he was only in if she was, and that’s why she said no.”

            Lydia made an impatient noise. “Idiot. He doesn’t see how important this is to you.”

            “I don’t know how he could miss it.”

            “Think,” she sighed. “You’ve been doing research, yes, but you do research for everything. You get obsessed, then move to something else. John probably thinks you’d get tired of the baby the same way.”

            He flopped back into her lap. “He is an idiot. I never get tired of family.”

            His friend glanced at the wall, covered in pinned-up photos surrounding a single framed portrait of his mother. “I know, Stiles. I think he feels terrible about it now. He’s almost as bad as you.”

            That much was true, he realized. He thought he’d been avoiding his dad, but maybe they’d been avoiding each other. Both of them spent most of their time working. Stiles wasn’t eating much and new food sat untouched in the fridge, so John was eating at his desk. Probably out of a greasy bag. That couldn’t be good for his heart.

            The doorbell interrupted his musing. He went down to find Melissa McCall on his doorstep. She flashed a tight smile. “Hi, honey. Is your father home?”

            Stiles shook his head, stepping aside to let her in. “No. Lydia Martin’s here though.”

            “Lydia Martin is on her way home,” Lydia announced from behind him. She gave Melissa an assessing frown. “You took long enough.”

            The older woman set her purse on the dining room table. “It was a big decision, Lydia. Go home, I’ve got this.” Puzzled, Stiles saw his friend out before joining Melissa at the table. She had a packet of papers laid out. “I know John’s getting off shift soon, so this needs to be short. I don’t want to tempt fate by letting him find out when he might be able to do something about it.”

            “About what?” He glanced at the top page, then picked it up and looked closer. “This is a petition for custody. Mrs. McCall, I can’t use this. Dad already said he wouldn’t let me bring the baby home without Heather’s blessing, even if I could find a lawyer that could beat Dalbec and Grant.”

            Melissa smiled, a small secretive curl of lips. “You only need a lawyer if CCS doesn’t approve your living conditions. I can’t imagine them having a problem with a registered nurse’s house.”

            Her words didn’t register at first. When they did Stiles’s jaw dropped. “A nurse’s house. Your house?”

            “Your father’s a good man, but he’s also stubborn. You deserve to raise your child if that’s what you want.” She took a deep breath. “I can’t offer much more than our spare room, though.”

            “That’s enough. That’s _awesome_ ,” he said, a grin breaking out across his face. “I have a good job, at least until I have to cut back in the fall. I could pay rent, even.”

            The woman’s face relaxed a little. “Don’t worry about rent. You have to chip in for food and take care of the baby’s expenses. I don’t think you realize how much that’s going to cost.”

            “I should be able to handle it. I make a little over two hundred dollars most weeks after taxes.” Stiles thought he could earn more if he asked for it. Whittemore seemed more interested in what he could get away with than the letter of the law. “Plus I have some savings.”

            Melissa laughed and shook her head. “Honey, a living wage for one adult and one child in Berkeley is almost fifty-six thousand dollars. You can only afford this because you won’t have rent for a while.”

            He felt his excitement falter. “I checked online. It looked like I could do it for under thirty thousand.”

            “That’s the minimum to survive,” she said, amused. “At that salary you won’t have any reserves. Every time something goes wrong you’ll be scrambling to get bills paid.” The woman laid a hand over his. “Don’t panic. You have a lot of work to do, Stiles, but you have a better start than most. Imagine raising a baby while waiting tables, or cleaning hotel rooms.”

            Both of which Melissa had done to pay for nursing school, according to Scott. Stiles ducked his head in embarrassment. “Yeah, I guess I am lucky.” He thought about the baby and had to smile. “Really lucky. Thank you, Mrs. McCall. You won’t regret this.”

            She rubbed his hand. “Just make me proud, sweetheart. That’ll be enough.”

 

            Keeping the secret from his dad was easier than Stiles expected. He had excuses lined up for the time he spent at Melissa’s clearing out the box room, but he didn’t need them. John kept to his regiment of avoidance. When they were home together the sheriff seemed edgy, preoccupied, and he didn’t mention Stiles’ jumpiness. Lydia called it guilt. Stiles called it luck. Either way, he had the time he needed to save money and plan his move to Casa McCall.

            As it turned out, life had a real thing for changing his plans.

            At the beginning of July his phone rang. He freed a hand from his blanket nest, still half awake. “Scotty, man, it’s not even six yet-”

            “It’s not Scott.”

            Stiles sat up so fast the blankets slid to the ground. “Heather?”

            “Yeah.” She sounded like she’d been crying. “Look, can you come to the hospital right now?”

            Fear stole his voice for a moment. “Is it… did something happen?” he got out around the lump in his throat. “Is she okay?”

            Heather laughed a little unsteadily. “She’s fine. I’m freaking out. Can you just come? I’m at Mother of Mercy, not BHMC.”

            “I’m on my way.” Last night’s jeans lay by the bed. He tugged them on one-handed and scrambled around for a shirt. “That’s in Granger, right? I think it’ll take me an hour or so to get there.”

            “There, um. There isn’t a rush. The baby was born on the second.”

            The second. He’d been a father for two days without knowing it. “Wow.”

            “I know,” she whispered. “I know, it was really shitty of me not to call. She wasn’t supposed to be here for another week and I panicked a little. Then the hospital social worker wouldn’t let me sign the paperwork for forty-eight hours because of the medicine and they were going to come later tonight but she just…” Her voice cracked. “She looks so much like you.”

            A flare of happiness snuck in past his worry. “Yeah?”

            “So much. My eyes, maybe. It’s too early to tell.” The girl sniffled, then said, “I didn’t change my mind. I don’t want her, not even a little bit, and I’m really scared but Lydia was right. It’s not right for me to keep her from you.”

            Lydia had spoken to her. Stiles closed his eyes, almost too afraid to hope. Maybe he wouldn’t have to choose between his father and his child after all. “Heather, are you saying I can have her? You aren’t going through with the adoption?”

            She hesitated. “Did you mean it? About leaving the state if I asked? Because I can’t risk her finding me and she _will_ if we live in the same place.”

            That made him wince, trying to figure out where he could go even as he reassured her. “It’s fine. I can leave, no problem. There are good schools everywhere.” He hadn’t applied to any of them, but hey, if he could get into UC Berkeley he at least had a shot.

            “And you’ll have to sign a contract promising you won’t ask for child support, or tell her who I am.”

            “Done.”

            Heather was quiet for a moment. When she spoke she sounded steadier. “Come. It’s room 424. Bring a car seat, okay?” She hung up before he could ask anything else. The boy threw a flannel on over his t-shirt and was almost to the door when the enormity of the situation hit him.

            Heather had told him to bring a car seat.

            He was going to pick up the baby now, today, and he’d promised to leave the state. In a few hours he would have a kid and a deadline. Maybe he could put it off for a little bit, but he had to find a way to move. His dad’s term wasn’t up which meant Stiles needed a place he could afford on his own. That would be easier if he were old enough to sign a lease. Where could he stay without a lease that was safe enough for a baby? Would Whittemore let him telecommute? It’s not like he went into the office for more than the weekly briefing anymore; almost everything he did these days was research.

            This called for reinforcements. Stiles grabbed his phone and dialed, heading out to the Jeep. “Sorry, I know it’s early but please don’t hang up. Things are happening, buddy.”


	5. Step Five:  Deep Breaths, Preferably Not Of Mud

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heather has relented, but at a price. Can Stiles convince his father to help now that he can't stay with Melissa?

 

        After Scott he called Lydia and Melissa. His friends were predictably relieved they wouldn’t have to go through with the original plan. “Dude, I knew Heather wouldn’t do it,” Scott shouted into the phone. “She’s too nice. It kinda sucks that you’re not gonna live with me, though.”

        Lydia was more helpful. “I’ll wake Jackson up. His dad talks about your research skills every time your name comes up, he’ll probably keep you on if you can do Skype meetings.”

        “Are you sure?” Melissa asked when he told her. “Because we can do this without you moving, it’ll just be a little rougher.”

        “This way my dad won’t feel betrayed,” Stiles said, pulling in to the Wal-Mart parking lot. “He said he was in if Heather was, so technically I’m keeping to our deal. The other way- well. I’d do it rather than lose the baby and I’m so grateful that you offered, but if I can keep them both I will.”

        He could hear her smile. “You’re a good boy, Stiles. Come by my house when you get a chance, okay? I want to meet our little girl.’

        “You got it.” He hung up and hunted up the baby furniture. Wal-Mart didn’t stock the one he’d picked out online, so he spent a few hasty minutes with Google before picking an alternate. It was ominously expensive. He tried not think about it; after all, there wasn’t much choice in the matter. Nowhere else was open. He didn’t want to get turned away from the hospital because he bought a cheap car seat. Could they do that? Was it actually legal?

        Worrying about the car seat turned into worrying about everything else he didn’t have. Melissa had been planning to take him out of town to shop this weekend, somewhere no one would recognize them. Now he wished he’d given in to the impulse to buy a few things himself. There was a baby incoming without a single diaper in the house.

        By the time he parked at the hospital Stiles was three seconds from freaking out. He rested his forehead on the steering wheel and focused on taking slow, deep breaths. “This is fine,” he told himself. “You’re fine, dude. You can do this.” His phone rang, startling him from his pep talk. He fumbled to answer. “Hello?”

        “Where are you right now?”

        His father’s voice cut through Stiles’ panic. He closed his eyes, cursing himself for not checking the screen first. “Uh. Can we have this discussion when I get home?”

        “That depends,” John said. “Deputy Parrish just called me to say he saw your Jeep pull into Mother of Mercy. Where Heather is.” The boy winced. He’d forgotten that deputies picked up overtime shifts in other counties. Of all the times to-

        Stiles’ brain caught up with him. “Do you have people following me?” he demanded, incredulous.

        Now his dad sounded uncomfortable. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

        “No, really, do you? Because this is an hour from home. It’s too much of a coincidence that a Beacon County deputy is here the day my baby leaves the hospital.” It was actually impressive. Stiles wondered if his dad could teach him sneaky parenting skills or if you had to learn those yourself. “You know Heather told me not to come.”

        “Yet there you are,” John countered. “Care to explain?”

        Determination chased the last of the worry away. Stiles hooked the new car seat over one hand, grabbed the flowers he’d bought on impulse, and headed for the door. “Heather called me this morning. She changed her mind, told me to come get the baby, and I just went. I wasn’t keeping this a secret from you. Other things maybe but… Dad, I’m not asking permission.”

        “You really think you can do this by yourself?”

        He wanted to cry at the very idea. “Not even close. I’m scared out of my mind and I could really use your help. If you’re not gonna give it, well, that sucks but I’ll manage. I have a plan.”

        “In an hour and a half you came up with a plan.” His dad’s words dripped skepticism.

        Stiles couldn’t resist. “I have twelve percent of a plan.”

        The sheriff let out a sound that was suspiciously close to laughter. “Don’t quote Marvel to me,” he said, amusement laced through his voice. “This is serious.”

        “It is,” his son agreed. “It’s serious, I’m serious, and I’m seriously doing this. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before I left, okay? You weren’t home and our deal was that I could have her if Heather agreed and honestly, I was hoping the baby would be cute enough that you wouldn’t kill me before I could explain.” He cut through the hospital lobby to the elevators and hit the button for the fourth floor. “Dad… if it were me in that nursery, could you leave me?”

        John’s silence lasted the whole elevator ride. When he spoke his voice was gruff. “I’m taking the day off. You bring that baby straight home.”

        “She’s got nothing but a car seat, I might have to-” He broke off as the elevator doors opened on Deputy Parrish, standing cross-armed by the nurse’s station. “Oh hey, it’s your partner in crime. Please tell him we’re cool so he doesn’t tackle me.”

        Parrish’s expression was dark. “I’m supposed to be on guard duty, Stiles, not keeping you from harassing that girl.”

        “She called me, I swear,” Stiles promised. “Go ask her.”

        “Don’t think I won’t.”

        He took the flowers, turned on his heel, and walked down the hall. Stiles glanced around the cheerful yellow reception area, trying to ignore the judgy stares of the nurses. “Uh, Dad, I’ve got to go.”

        “See you at home. And Stiles?” John paused. “I’m proud of you, kid. I really am.”

        Warmth flowed through him, chasing away some of the jittery panic. Stiles swallowed hard. “That… thanks, Dad.”

        “No texting and driving on the way back.”

        Being on the same page as his father again was amazing. It steadied him enough that his smile was mostly natural when Parrish came back. “So? Do I pass the test?”

        The deputy squeezed his shoulder. His disapproval had faded, though he still looked worried. “She’s waiting for you. Are you sure about this, kid? Babies are a lot of hard, thankless work.”

        “I’m sure,” he said at once. “So very much of the sure. I get surer every time someone asks me that.”

        Parrish nodded to the nurses and stepped aside. “Room 424 is right around that corner. I have to go back downstairs but I’ll make sure the girls don’t give you too hard a time.” Stiles nodded, tightened his hand on the car seat like it might make a break for it, and went.

        424 was a nice room- airy and bright with early morning sun- but Stiles only had eyes for the figures on the bed. Heather had adjusted it to a sitting position, probably to make supporting the blanket-wrapped bundle in her lap easier. She studied it with a pensive expression. “You can come in. I don’t bite and she doesn’t have teeth yet.”

        He took the invitation and nearly ran to the bed, then stopped awkwardly. “Is that her?”

        Heather snorted without looking up. “I didn’t steal someone else’s baby, Stiles. Of course it’s her.” She paused, then said, “I’ve been holding her off and on. My mother thought it was stupid, but it seemed weird not to at least try it out.”

        “Yeah?” Stiles edged around to her side, trying to see the little face. “What do you think?”

        She raised her head. “Put your arms out.”

        He did, noticing how badly they were shaking, and she shifted to set the baby in them. The blankets fell back. Stiles found himself staring at a tiny face, red and scrunched and absolutely beautiful. It felt like someone had punched him in the stomach. He sat dazedly on the edge of the bed, eyes going from her pert little nose to her wide red mouth to the wisps of dark hair sticking out from under her little white hat. “Oh.”

        “I told you, she looks like you,” Heather observed. “Her eyes are light, though. The nurse thinks they’ll be like mine.”

        Heather’s eyes were a clear beautiful sea-green. Stiles couldn’t help the foolish grin that stretched his lips. “She’s- god, Heather, she’s perfect.”

        “She really is,” the girl said with a small smile. “Seven pounds, eleven ounces and twenty inches long. Perfect ten on the Apgar. It wasn’t even that painful a delivery. There’s not a single thing wrong with her.” Her smile twisted. “That’s how I know I made the right choice.”

        He tore his eyes from his daughter- holy crap, his _daughter_ \- to look at the girl quizzically. “Huh?”

        She shrugged one shoulder. “I don’t feel anything. I mean, there are hormones and everything but I don’t feel any sort of connection to her. I’m mostly worried you’ll let my name slip.” Heather searched his face, biting her lip. “Stiles, I’m not mommy material. You can’t let her look for me later. No one should have a parent who’s relieved to give her away. She needs to have someone who looks at her like you just did, like you just saw heaven or something.”

        His cheeks heated, and he looked back at the sleeping baby. “You’re not- Heather, don’t feel bad, okay? Not wanting kids doesn’t make you a bad person. Letting me have her makes you a pretty fantastic one. If you ever change your mind you can visit, but I’ll keep my vow of silence.” The baby yawned, one tiny fist working free of the blankets, and he felt like his heart grew ten sizes in an instant. “Thank you. Thank you so much, Heather.”

        “Figures you’d be a crier,” Heather muttered, pulling a tissue from her dresser top. Only then did he realize there were tears dripping down his chin. “No, don’t try to juggle her, I’ve got it. It’s not like I’ve never touched you before.”

        Stiles let her wipe his cheeks, embarrassed. “Sorry.”

        “Don’t be. This is why I changed my mind, you know?” She threw the tissue away and held her hand out. “Where’s your phone? I’ll take some pictures for you.”

        Heather took pictures of him, the baby, him holding the baby, her little fist clenched around his finger- everything but herself. When she was done she leaned back, smiling. “I’m glad you’re keeping her. I really am. It’s good to know I won’t have to worry whether she’s okay. Loved.”

        “Not for a minute,” Stiles promised. It was true. The attachment that made him grieve before was nothing compared to the way he felt holding his daughter. Losing her now would be unbearable.

        The girl nodded, smoothing the blankets. “I have to stay another day or two. It’s just an infection, nothing crazy, but they’re moving me to another floor. My stuff is all there already, except these flowers. Thanks for those, by the way.”

        “Uh, don’t mention it.” He bent, lowering the baby into the car seat. A few weeks ago Melissa had used a hospital loaner to teach him how to do the straps. He blessed her patient instruction now for the confidence it gave his movements. “So how do we do this? You said there were papers to sign.”

        She chewed her lip as she watched him wrangle the buckles. “The doctor says she’s ready to go as soon as you sign her out. I had the lawyers bring by her birth certificate application and all the stuff you need from me, but you have to sign them in front of witnesses. The nurse can do that at the desk.”

        Stiles felt a little surge of panic and forced it down, forcing himself to smile instead. “Sounds like a plan.”

        Her shoulders relaxed a little, as if she was relieved he wasn’t making a big deal of this. “Do you know what you’re naming her yet? You can wait, I’m just curious.”

        He did know. After bouncing ideas off Scotty and Lydia and skimming the pitifully small Polish section on Nameberry, he’d found something that clicked. “Her name is Halina,” he said, relishing the sound of it. “Halina Claudia Stilinski. Hallie.”

        Heather tilted her head. “The middle one was your mom’s name, right? Claudia?”

        “Yeah.” It made him desperate to have his mother here, and he felt himself tearing up again. Stiles lifted the car seat. “Do you want to see her again? And do you want pictures or anything?”

        “If I do I’ll just creep your Facebook. Right now I’m okay,” the girl said. She looked it, too. Her shoulders had lost their rigid tension, and while her eyes were a little misty they seemed peaceful. “So, um. Don’t forget to get the paperwork, okay?”

        There weren’t words strong enough for his gratitude. Stiles gave up and settled for a nod. “Okay. I, uh, hope your infection thing clears up.”

        She rolled her eyes. “Really, my mom’s being melodramatic. She thinks I need to be coddled. I’ll be fine, Stiles, don’t worry about me. You just take care of your daughter,” Heather said, reaching across her nightstand for her purse.

        Stiles could take a hint. He backed out of the room and left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Halina is a version of Helen, which means "the bright one". I considered giving this baby a gloriously difficult Polish name, but I thought Stiles might spare his child that burden. Also, how could he resist a secret Green Lantern reference?
> 
> Feel free to picture Halina however you'd like. If you like picture references, I found this one that looks like baby pictures of Dylan O'Brien, so this is who I'm picturing: http://images2.fanpop.com/image/photos/8800000/Black-Haired-Beauties-babies-8815093-367-480.jpg (obviously not my picture)


	6. Step Six: Wriggling is a Good Sign

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles and his friends scheme.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this was late. I don't even have a good excuse, it's done and I just forgot to post earlier. See, this is why I wanted to practice regular posting.

 

            Forty-five minutes later Stiles drove away with the car seat in back and a hospital welcome basket on the passenger seat. He couldn’t quite believe it had been so easy. There were some hospital forms to sign, the contract with Heather to have witnessed, but after that the nurses handed him a basket and wished him well. Lena, the head nurse, told him Dalbec and Grant were going to file the birth certificate. “They need it to apply for her social security number,” she explained. “The birth certificate can take a couple weeks and so can social security.”

            “I, uh, have to move pretty soon,” Stiles said, trying to tuck the basket under one arm. “Did they say anything about that?”

            She pointed out a ribbon strap long enough to loop over his shoulder. “Mrs. Dalbec left a letter of instructions. I put it in your info packet, but it mostly just says that she’ll call you when your paperwork is ready. I’d guess you have about a month.”

One month. He had to find somewhere out of state to live within a month, give or take whatever grace period Dalbec and Grant gave him. It was more time than he’d expected. A month gave him time to figure out what he was going to do about senior year. He’d been planning to finish it out at Melissa’s house, then apply for family housing at UC Berkeley. Obviously neither were options now. Stiles wondered if he might have enough credits to graduate early, though it meant sacrificing his salutorian status. That would solve the school problem at least.  

            Driving with Halina in the backseat was nerve-wracking. Every time someone cut him off or changed lanes a little too abruptly Stiles nearly had a heart attack. He kept worrying something would happen to take her away before he really got to know her. His daughter still hadn’t woken fully, but he expected that. Melissa said newborns slept much of the day, and Hallie sure lived up to that reputation. She barely made a peep the whole trip. Whenever she did Stiles snuck anxious looks in the rear-view mirror, wondering if he needed to pull over to check her diaper.

            Not that he had diapers. Stiles actually didn’t have anything except the car seat and the scattering of product samples in the basket.

            The idea scared him so much he nearly stopped for supplies. His dad had said straight home, though, and he was already walking a narrow line. Pushing the boundaries right now seemed like a bad idea. Stiles drove home and parked on the street, mostly because the driveway was full. Melissa’s van, Jackson’s Porsche, and his dad’s cruiser sat like watchful dogs in front of his house. He could feel eyes watching as he freed the car seat from its base, though no one came out to greet him. The boy looked down at Hallie’s sleeping face. “We’ve got this, right, Hal?” She pursed her lips, then yawned hugely. Amused and reassured, Stiles carried her up to the house.

            His dad opened the door right as his hand touched the handle. They stood staring at each other for a long moment before John stepped aside. “Everyone’s in the living room.”

            Stiles edged inside, suddenly nervous in his own house. He could see a small crowd of people sitting on couches and dining room chairs. “Uh, wow. Okay. Why is everyone in the living room?”

            “You called in the cavalry.” The sheriff’s face gave nothing away. “Which we need, seeing as you promised to move out of the state.”

            His son winced. “I was going to mention that.”

            “You didn’t have to. Dalbec’s assistant already emailed me your contract,” John said, holding up his tablet. “Did you read this before you signed?”

            The contract was pretty intense. Stiles couldn’t contact Heather ever again, barring medical emergencies, and then only through the lawyer’s office. Dalbec and Grant would file paperwork for Halina’s social security card, which would take about a month since they had to wait for her birth certificate first. Once all her paperwork arrived Stiles had to be out of the state within ten business days. At the most he had a month and a half to figure out where he was going. “I read it,” he admitted. “And I know it’s gonna be hard, but…” He held up the car seat. “I got her.”

            Melissa McCall came in, trailing her son, and zeroed in on the baby. “What are you waiting for? Show her off already.”

            He set the carrier on the dining room table. Suddenly everyone was crowding in: Melissa, Scott, John, Lydia, even Jackson stood in a little huddle around the baby. Stiles unbuckled his sleeping daughter, shy but near bursting with pride. “I guess her name is spoiled if you talked to the lawyers.”

            “Your mother would be touched,” John said quietly. His eyes were glued to the baby. “She’s my granddaughter, I get her first.”

            “Okay, but you have to watch her-”

            “Head, I know,” his father finished, finally smiling. “I did raise one of these myself. Give me the baby, Stiles.”

            Maybe Stiles was a crier, but at least he came by it honestly. His father teared up the moment Halina was put in his arms. John cradled her expertly in one arm, brushing her hair back with his free hand. “Well, this answers one question. You definitely would have been prettier as a girl.”

            Scott laughed out loud. Stiles swatted him with his beanie and hissed, “Sleeping baby, dude.”

            It was too late. Hallie was already opening her eyes, pale blue for now. John made a little humming noise. “Look at that. Maybe she’ll take after me.”

            “Hea- uh, She Who Chooses Not To Be Named said she thought they’d turn green. Like hers.”

            Scott smacked his friend in the arm, beaming. “Awesome. Voldemom.”

            “Absolutely not,” the sheriff said firmly. “Find something else to call Heather that doesn’t compare her to an evil wizard.”

            “Don’t say the H-word around Hal,” Stiles begged. “I promised.”

            John’s face did a complicated dance between exasperation and sympathy. “Halina can’t understand me.”

            “She doesn’t have a long term memory yet,” Lydia added.

            The boy held his ground. “I don’t want to get into the habit. No one says her name, okay?”

            “Dude, it’s fine,” Scott assured him. “We’ll say- or not say- whatever you want.” He touched Hallie’s hand, grinning when she reflexively grabbed his finger. “Hey, she likes me.”

            Jackson snorted and backed away to lean against the wall. “That makes her the first girl on the planet who does, McCall.”

            Hallie’s face scrunched up. She let out a wavery cry, and Stiles lunged to grab her back. “Thanks, Jackson, you’re officially the first person on the planet to make my daughter cry.” He cuddled her close, worried and protective. “She’s probably hungry. I need to make a store run.”

            “Tomorrow,” John said. “I picked up a few first-day essentials. You should be okay for the night.”

            He went into the kitchen and came back after a few minutes shaking a bottle. By then Hallie was whimpering steadily. Stiles took the bottle, tilting it like Melissa had shown him, and lowered himself to a chair. Hallie snatched the nipple as soon as it was in reach. Startled, he looked up at Melissa. “Is that normal? Did I let her go too long without food? Oh my god, am I starving her already?”

            “Some babies are just like that,” she said soothingly. “It’s a good sign, it means she’s healthy.”

            He watched the baby eat, marveling at how focused she was on the task. He didn’t think he’d ever been that focused without Ritalin. After a moment he realized everyone had joined him at the table with the exception of Jackson, who was taking a phone call in the living room. Stiles offered a watery smile. “So? What do you think?”

            Lydia gave a little sigh. “She’s beautiful, Stiles. Of course she is.”

            “So pretty,” Scott chimed in with a goofy smile. “I didn’t know a girl could look so much like her dad.”

            “She looks like Claudia,” John said, touching her arm. He lifted his hand to ruffle Stiles’ hair. “Fatherhood looks good on you, kid. I was wrong to push you away from this. From her.”

            His son studied Hallie’s chin, a pudgier version of his own. “Don’t worry, I’ll never tell her.” He made himself add, “You weren’t wrong about one thing. This isn’t going to be easy. I have to be gone in a month, before school starts. Do we even know anyone who lives outside California?”

            The sheriff’s jaw tightened. “No family. One of my old deputies lives in Nevada, but I wouldn’t be comfortable asking him to take you in.”

            “I have some cousins in Florida,” Melissa suggested. “I’m sure someone there has a spare room.”

            Florida was across the country. Stiles exchanged an unhappy glance with his father and said, “If we don’t have any other options. It’s pretty far, though.”

            “You might not need to go to the East Coast,” Jackson said as he strolled back in. All eyes turned to him, and he held up his hands. “I said might. No promises.”

            His smug expression said differently. Stiles swallowed his pride and said, “Dude, if you have a lead-”

            “Oh, I have better than that.” The older boy slung an arm around Lydia, radiating satisfaction. “But it’s gonna cost you.”

            A chorus of groans met his statement. John waved them quiet, determined. “How much? We don’t have a lot, but I can get whatever it is together.”

            Jackson’s smirk didn’t flicker. “No offense, Sheriff Stilinski, but I have more pocket money than you make in a year. I don’t want money. Or political favors,” he added quickly. “Though I’d appreciate a warning instead of a ticket next time you catch me speeding.”

            “Spit it out, whatever it is,” Lydia ordered with an eye roll. “They think you’re blackmailing them.”

            He shrugged, giving up his game. “Whatever. Lydia wants to be godmother. Give her that and I’ll help.”

            Her cheeks pinked, and she peeked sideways at Halina. “That’s not- I don’t-”

            “Are you serious?” Stiles couldn’t stop the grin that stretched his lips. “I’m not gonna lie, Jackson, this is adorable.” He set the empty bottle aside and lifted Hallie over his shoulder, patting her back. “I’m in. Lydia was already on my list, anyway.”

            Lydia couldn’t hide her smile. “I was?”

            “Sure. Polish babies have four grandparents, so I was thinking Lydia and, um.” He felt himself blush. “Melissa, if she’s okay with it.”

            The woman’s smile warmed. She bent to kiss his forehead. “That’s sweet, mijo. You’re sweet, and I accept.”

            “Wait, who’s the other godfather?” Scott asked.

            Melissa gave him a stern look. “Stiles hasn’t asked you yet.”

            The boys gave her identical incredulous looks. “He doesn’t have to,” Stiles said, meeting Scott’s fist-bump without looking. “We made a deal years ago that we’re godfathers to each other’s firstborns.”

            “When was this?”

            “Fifth grade,” the boy said, still grinning. “Scott also has to name his first son after me.”

            Scott rubbed the back of his neck. “I might have lost a bet. But dude, you didn’t answer.”

            Much as it galled him, only one answer made sense. “I’m sorry, man,” Stiles said regretfully. “You have to share with Jackson.”

            Jackson’s jaw dropped open. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

            “No, he’s right,” Scott said in resignation. “You got him a job, you’re helping now. It’s gotta be you.” He bumped shoulders with his friend, grin returning. “I’m first godfather, though, right?”

            “Always, man,” Stiles said at once.

            Several expressions chased themselves across Jackson’s face: shock, irritation, uncertainty, and finally curiosity. He slouched against Lydia’s side. “Fine. Only because she’s not as freaky-looking as you.”

            “Now that the important things are settled,” John interrupted dryly. “Can we please discuss this big idea you have, Mr. Whittemore?”

            The boy waved a hand, smugness returning. “I told my dad Stilinski had to leave town with the kid. Dad says he can get the contract thrown out-”

            “-Which I told him you wouldn’t go for,” Lydia said before Stiles could protest. She gave him an approving smile. “I know you respect Hea- ah, your ex’s wishes more than that.”

            Jackson made a face. “Because you’re lame. This chick is jerking you around- which is totally her right,” he added hastily at his girlfriend’s arch look. “So Dad says he’s sorry to lose you, but if you’re willing to let him charge a placement fee he has a place in mind.” He lifted a finger. “A live-in position as a personal research assistant for a writer in Seattle.”

            “Seriously?” John was suspicious. “It’s been two hours. How could your father have a job lined up? Why would this guy hire a seventeen year old with a baby?”

            “Because.” Jackson looked pleased with himself. “Stilinski kind of already works for him.”


	7. Chapter Seven: It's Either a Fish Or a Snake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles finds out more about his potential employer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am really bad at judging how long these chapters need to be. Now that most of them are around 1500-2500 words I feel compelled to keep it there, but there are more than seven. Sorry, guys. I suck. 
> 
> In apology, have some wordy character exposition.

 

            John was not thrilled with the idea of his son moving out. “You don’t know this man,” he said unhappily. “He’s a hermit. What if he’s mentally unstable?”

            “Lydia read all his press,” Stiles told him. He was standing in a Babies ‘R Us putting hats on Hallie, trying to decide if she was cuter as Yoda or Thor. She made a really cute Thor. “He’s supposed to be grumpy but not a creeper. And you ran his background check. He doesn’t have a criminal record.”

            “Eleven people have quit.”

            That much was true. Derek Hale had been through eleven personal assistants, all vetted by his lawyers at Whittemore Associates. Every one had quit or been fired within a month, so Whittemore Senior had offered Stiles’ research skills as a stop-gap measure. “Dad says you do good work,” Jackson had told them last night. “Like, adult quality work, so he’s going to talk to Hale and see if he’ll hire a spazzy teenager with a baby.”

            They were still waiting on confirmation, but Stiles was hopeful. He knew his Google-fu was amazing. For now he planned to enjoy his last month at home and get to know his daughter. Feeing expansive, he threw both hats in his cart. “So eleven people have quit. So what? Maybe it’s the security clause. Most people would have a huge problem with their employer tracking their phones, but I can deal with a paranoid boss.”

            John moved down to an endcap display, studying the bottles there. He sighed, then admitted, “I’ve met Derek Hale.”

            “What? How?”

            “Years ago,” he said. “When he was a little younger than you. His family’s from here.”

            Lydia hadn’t told him that. She must have known, though. Stiles shoved that thought aside and waved for his father to continue. “Well? What was he like?”

            “Quiet. Even before, he was quiet.” The sheriff threw a two packs of bottles in the cart and moved down to the formula section. “Do you have a preference here?”

            Thanks to his research, Stiles actually did. He grabbed two cans (wow, this stuff was expensive), then two more when he realized he didn’t know how fast he’d go through it. “Quit stalling. Before what?”

            “I’m not stalling, I’m trying to be sensitive,” John said with a frown. “If he’s going to be your employer I don’t know that I should tell you.”

            “If he’s from here he probably assumes I know.”

            His father’s frown deepened, but he nodded. “Fair point. Do you know the new library on the edge of town?”

            The “new library” had been built while Stiles was in middle school, a tall beautifully designed building with a collection that drew researchers from all over the state. Stiles started to nod impatient agreement when he realized. “Hale Memorial Library. Oh my god, did he build that?”

            “He and his sisters, yes.” John caught his eye as he went on, “Where their house used to be. It burned to the ground when Derek was twelve, along with most of his family. At his birthday party. He had an uncle and two sisters left. When he was sixteen his uncle went to prison for murdering his older sister, Laura.”

            “Oh my god.” This was horrifying. The boy covered Hallie’s ears. “Why would the uncle kill his own niece?”

            “Laura was dating the woman who burned Hale House down. Kate Argent. Laura was only sixteen at the time. She told Argent when everyone would be at the house and snuck her inside for some ‘private time’. We’re pretty sure Argent drugged everyone through the punchbowl, because the only people that got out didn’t drink any.” The sheriff shook his head at the memory. “That part of the trial was closed, but somehow Peter found out. He called a family meeting, confronted Laura at gunpoint to make her confess. Things went south. When the police arrived they found Laura dead, Derek with a bullet in the shoulder, and Peter with a broken spine from being pushed down the stairs.”

            Stiles’ eyes burned with sympathy. “Poor guy. I might be living a Lifetime movie but this dude’s life is a straight up soap opera.”

            “Agreed,” John said sadly. “Anyway, Derek moved his last remaining sister to Washington. I lost track of him until he published his first book a few years ago, but I can’t imagine his history makes him very stable.”

            “Uh-oh, no, you don’t get to do that,” his son said, bending to check Hallie. Every time she fell asleep he got this irrational worry she’d stopped breathing. Reassured, he glared at his father. “You can’t just assume a guy is crazy because his uncle was. You said his background check was clear. Lydia says he’s kind of a recluse but no one says anything bad about him.”

            The man let out a frustrated sigh. “Eleven assistants might argue with that.”

            Stiles shrugged, hiding his own unease, and joked, “They weren’t as motivated as me. Derek Hale likes my research, so the only thing that’ll get me fired is if I mess something else up. I won’t.”

            “If you get the job,” John cautioned. “Don’t count your chickens before they hatch.”

 

 

            Two weeks passed slowly. Stiles would have worried himself sick if he’d had the time, but every minute was consumed with Hallie. She was a sweet, happy baby as long as he was physically holding her. If he laid her down while she was awake or she woke by herself she wailed inconsolably until he scooped her up, babbling apologies. Stiles slept whenever she did, which wasn’t for more than a few hours at a time. “It’s normal,” he told Scott through a yawn. “Melissa says babies don’t sleep through the night for seven or eight months.”

            “How’s that gonna work, dude?” his friend asked. They were sprawled on Stiles’ couch, Captain America on low as they tried to stay awake. “With the job, I mean?”

            “I’ll make it work. I can get used to less sleep, I basically do this for a few weeks around finals every year, so...”

            The words trailed off as he remembered those days were over. Entirely over. He and his dad had met with the guidance counselor. Though he might have been able to do a year of high school online, it seemed easier to take the proficiency exam and graduate early. He had the credits for it. Stiles breezed through the test, so that wasn’t a worry. He felt more conflicted than nervous. UC Berkeley had been his dream for so long that giving it up left him at loose ends. He knew he’d done the right thing, knew he could never have lived with losing Hallie, but now he had no idea what to do with his future.

            Scott wrapped an arm around his shoulders, brown eyes earnest. “Hey, man, it’s going to be okay. If Mr. Whittemore can’t get you this Seattle job we can find you something else. Mom says our cousins in Florida have room.”

            Hallie was wearing a GRANDPA’S FAVORITE DEPUTY onesie, a gift from John. Stiles traced the letters with a finger. “Seattle’s a twelve hour drive. It’s rough, but doable. If I move to Florida Dad won’t be able to visit more than once or twice a year.”

            Understanding lit his friend’s expression. “We could tag-team drive,” he said stoutly. “Your dad and me. We’d take turns, we’d come once a month.”

            “You can’t spend one week a month driving across the country,” the younger boy said, a smile curling his lips anyway.

            “We will,” Scott declared. “Or maybe we’ll fly. I’ll get a job as a flight attendant so we can fly for free.”

            The idea of Scott in a trim little suit serving drinks made Stiles laugh. He slapped a hand over his mouth, then sighed relief when Hallie only snuggled deeper into his lap. “Close one. And don’t be ridiculous, man, you know you want to be a vet.”

            “I’ll be a vet in Florida, then. They have schools there. I go where you go, man, you know that. Just give me a year to catch up.”

            There was nothing but sincerity in Scott’s voice. Stiles couldn’t answer, too choked up, but he did scoot move over to set Hallie in the other boy’s lap. “Can you watch her a minute?” he asked gruffly. “I’m gonna grab a shower while the grabbing’s good.”

            Scott nodded eagerly, closing his arms around the baby like she was made of glass. “Go, man. I’ve got this.” He wrinkled his nose. “Also, you’re starting to reek a little.” Stiles laughed and headed upstairs.

            His friends were the best friends.


	8. Chapter 8: Any Fish Is A Winner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles meets Derek for the first time. It's not the smoothest introduction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note the updated tags on this. I just added them now because I didn't want to give anything away, and also because there isn't anything graphic about Derek's condition. It's just discussed very quickly. See end notes if you're still unsure.

 

       Stiles woke three days later to Hallie’s insistent crying. Someone was pounding on the door. He scooped his daughter up and went groggily to answer it. “I swear, Scotty, if you forgot your key again-”

       “Scott has a key?”

       The indignant answer filtered through his exhaustion, and he recognized Lydia. “Oh, hey.”

       She pushed past him, a garment bag over her arm. “I can’t believe McCall has a key and I don’t.”

       “He took it from the flowerpot,” Stiles protested. “Dad keeps trying to get it back.”

       “I’m sure.” The girl bent and kissed Hallie’s teary cheek, murmuring, “Sorry, Halina. I wouldn’t have had to knock so loudly if your daddy had answered his phone.”

       He found his phone in a pocket. “Eight missed calls,” he said in surprise. “Did we have plans?”

       “No, you have plans.” Lydia waggled the garment bag. “Get showered, get dressed. You have a job interview in thirty-five minutes and you want to make a good impression.”

       That woke Stiles the rest of the way. “Derek Hale? Like on Skype or something?”

       “Like in person, at the Whittemore offices,” she said with a satisfied smile. “He had to sign some things in person. Mr. Whittemore asked if he’d like to meet you while he’s here and Hale agreed as long as you’re there within the hour. Which you won’t be if you don’t move. Go, I’ll baby-sit. I brought noise-cancelling headphones and everything.”

       Stiles took the fastest shower of his life, threw on the clothes Lydia had brought, and jogged down for inspection. “Well? How do I look?” He took another look at the pair on the couch. “Oh my _god_ , how did you do that?”

       Hallie lay curled on his friend’s lap, dressed in a new red romper and sound asleep. Lydia flipped her hair. “We had a talk, just us girls,” she said smugly. “I think we’ll be fine. And you need to button that shirt a little more, this isn’t a date.”

       She’d chosen a pair of grey slacks and a grey shirt under a red sweater vest. Stiles did up another button, feeling self-conscious. “Shouldn’t I be in a suit?”

       “He’s looking for a personal assistant, not a lawyer. Besides, you look about twelve in a suit,” the girl added. “In that you look at least legal. You know, in case you want a little Secretary action.”

       He snickered and grabbed his keys. “I have a newborn, Lydia. Romance is pretty much the last thing on my mind. This interview is at the office, right? I’ll call you when I’m done.”

       Her words didn’t seem as funny when he walked into Mr. Whittemore’s office. Derek Hale was- actually beautiful.

       For some reason Stiles had been picturing an older guy. Derek had written seven books, all of which were on the New York Times Bestseller’s list, but he started when he was seventeen. He must be around twenty-two now, though his scowl made him seem older. He had messy dark hair, a few days’ worth of scuff, green eyes, and a face that looked like someone had sculpted it. Someone talented. Right now that face wore an unfairly attractive frown as he spoke to Mr. Whittemore. “Those are my terms,” he was saying. “If I’m taking a kid back with me I want to be sure this was his own work.”

       That wasn’t fair. “Technically I’m not a kid,” Stiles said from the door. Derek turned to look at him, eyebrows raising, and he elaborated, “I’m an emancipated minor. Well, we filed a rush petition with the judge and she cleared it. The paperwork’s going to be ready in seven to ten business days. Hi, by the way. I’m Stiles Stilinski.”

       “Stiles? That’s a name? Your paperwork says-”

       “Something Polish and unpronounceable, yeah,” the boy cut in with a wince. “Courtesy of my maternal grandfather, I’m told. Everyone calls me Stiles.”

       Derek’s expression went from irritated to amused and back. “Derek Hale. David says you’re the one who’s been doing my research.”

       “Guilty.” That sounded too flippant. “I mean, just the past couple of months. You have a, uh, very wide area of interest.”

       “As you may have guessed, Derek is considering hiring you,” Mr. Whittemore said. “He would like a demonstration of your skills first. I trust you have time for a practical interview?”

       Which was bullshit, given that he’d been doing half this job for months already. “Sure thing,” Stiles agreed brightly. “How do we do this? Are you going to check my papers through a plagiarism site? Quiz me about my work to see if you can trip me up? Since we’re making sure I didn’t cheat somehow, I mean.”

       His words made Derek shift, looking uncomfortable. “That’s not- I don’t think you cheated.”

       “That’s what it sounded like when I came in.”

       “I just meant that a lot of parents help their kids with homework.”

       Mr. Whittemore started to say something soothing and conciliatory, but Stiles couldn’t stop himself. “Listen, my dad’s a smart guy, but he’s too busy serving and protecting to follow me around making my life easier. My mom’s too dead to help. I earned a full ride academic scholarship to UC Berkeley on my own merit, and before I had to graduate early I was my school’s salutorian. If there’s one thing I know how to do it’s research. Maybe I haven’t been a personal assistant before, but I have looked after a busy sheriff for the past few years so I can figure it out.” He took a deep breath and forced his voice back to something approaching a reasonable level. “Look, I’m just asking for a chance. You already like my work. Let me do more of it.”

       Derek stared at him, expression closing off though his shoulders went tense. It wasn’t the most promising sign during a job interview. Mr. Whittemore sighed and suggested, “Derek, why don’t you grab an early lunch? I’ll get Stiles started on your audition piece, hmm?”

       The writer gave a terse nod and walked out without saying anything else. When they were alone Mr. Whittemore said, “I would suggest you be more polite to a possible employer, but frankly I’m offended he doesn’t trust my supervision. I’d never pay you for work you didn’t do.”

       “Yeah, only Jackson gets that kind of favoritism,” the boy replied, grinning to cover his nerves. Jackson’s dad wasn't half bad. They got along better than he’d expected given, well, _Jackson_. “So this job. What am I doing? Besides more research, I mean, which wow does he buy a lot of.”

       “He uses it when he writes,” the lawyer told him. “From what I’ve gathered he thinks of characters and decides where to place them from the research.”

       It made sense, except- “Why doesn’t he just google this stuff?”

       Mr. Whittemore hesitated, then leaned back to close his office door. He gave Stiles a stern look. “I wouldn’t tell you this if I weren’t confident Derek will hire you, in which case you’ll need to know. If he doesn’t- even if he does- this is sensitive information. Understood?”

       “Uh, understood,” Stiles agreed, stomach clenching. Was this going to be another awful account of the Hale tragedies? “My lips are sealed, you know that.”

       The older man nodded. “You are astoundingly discreet for someone who talks so much. Well. Derek Hale was attacked by a family member a few years ago. He was shot and pulled down a flight of stairs. The attacker came off worse, he’s entirely wheelchair bound, but Derek suffered a severe head injury. I won’t go into detail, but he has some memory issues and suffers from occasional petit mal seizures. Because sudden flashes of light and color can be triggers for them, he avoids the internet.” Mr. Whittemore frowned, then added, “His life hasn’t been easy, so you may wish to give him some leeway on social niceties. Especially since he’s considering hiring you despite your age and baggage.”

       “Hallie isn’t baggage,” the boy said stoutly, digesting the new information. He wondered whether his dad knew about the head injury, since he hadn’t mentioned it. It must be pretty rough for a writer to have memory problems. “I see what you mean, though, and it’s actually an incredible opportunity. I know this wouldn't be an option if you hadn't put in a good word for me, sir, so I can handle a little rudeness.”

       “Good. Well, to business.” Mr. Whittemore found a packet of paper and moved it so they could both see. “This is the employment contract you’d be signing. I’ll let you read it tonight if Derek does hire you, but it’s not onerous. Your salary works out to a few dollars more than minimum wage, though it includes full room and board and allows for annual vacation time. I think you’ll find that not having as many expenses more than compensates for the low pay.”

       Stiles peered across at the contract and had to agree. He’d be making regularly what he made in heavy work weeks here, which was more than he could have expected.  At any rate it would cover his bills with some left over for the future. “That works for me. What did you mean by audition piece?”

       “Ah yes. I’ve had Ruth set Derek’s laptop up in one of our side offices. He wants two pages, the usual formatting, with a general overview of the Old West.”

       Stiles scratched his head, frowning. “Just the Old West? All of it? Doesn’t he usually have more specific requirements?”

       “That’s all he gave me,” the lawyer said with a shrug. “Probably because he was making it up on the spot. He did say no more than two pages, since he’s going to read it before making his decision. Don’t worry, if he doesn’t hire you I’ll bill him for your time as usual.”

       “Good, I still have to pay my babysitter.”

       Mr. Whittemore laughed as he stood to show his guest out. “I happen to know my future daughter-in-law is watching your daughter. If she asks for payment I’d be astounded.”

       “Not fair,” Stiles protested. “I pay all my friends for baby-sitting.” It was true, even if he couldn’t pay them much. “I’m not taking advantage of Lydia and Jackson, Mr. Whittemore.”

       The man patted his shoulder in a rare gesture of affection. “I didn’t say you were. You’re doing very well with all this, young man. Halina is a lucky girl.” His sharp smile returned. “And I won’t complain about the effect this is having on Jackson. He genuinely seems interested in the business these days, even if his work ethic isn’t quite up to yours yet. You’ve been a good example.”

       “Do not tell him that, please,” the boy moaned. “He’ll go back to middle school when he used to punch me at recess.” Feeling better about the whole thing, he hunted up the side office and got started on his report.

       Writing a generic overview of the Old West didn’t pose a problem. Stiles had a nice clear summary, complete with a timeline and some flavor facts, done in no time at all. It would have been sooner if Derek’s fancy computer wasn’t such a mess. The poor thing ran slower than molasses in the wintertime, to quote his grandmother. When it wasn’t freezing it suffered from flocks of pop-up windows and constant page redirection. Stiles wondered if it were kosher to give your boss a lesson in surfing porn without downloading viruses.

       It was a really nice computer, though, and he hated to see it so buggy. He decided to take a few minutes to do some basic computer maintenance. No one turned down free computer help, right?

       One thing turned into another, and before he realized Stiles had done a reorg of the whole system. He didn’t realize how much time had passed until he became aware of Derek watching over his shoulder. He stopped typing, embarrassed. “Uh, sorry. Just, your computer was running really slow so I figured I’d give it a quick tune-up.”

       The man scowled. “I asked you to research the Old West.”

       “Yeah, I did that first,” Stiles said, pulling up the document. “It took me a little over an hour to get the general outline you asked for. Pretty bare bones since you said no more than two pages. I requested some books from the Seattle library that have, like, so much more information, but they won’t be ready until Wednesday. I figured if you didn’t hire me you could still use the books.”

       The scowl eased from Derek’s face as he read, replaced by an intensely thoughtful expression. “This bit about the feral camels… I didn’t ask for this.”

       “It’s connected, though.”

       “It’s perfect. Move.” He waited impatiently for Stiles to get up before dropping into the vacated chair, then paused. “What did you do with all my files?”

       The boy hurried to point out the new folder arrangement, explaining, “Your work in progress is here in Drafts. Finished manuscripts are there. Things you’ve sent to the editor can go here. This one is for scraps of ideas, ‘cause man did you have a lot of those on your desktop. This way you can go through them between books.”

       Derek opened the Drafts folder. “It’s arranged by date. My last assistant alphabetized.”

       “Really? It seems obvious that you’d want the last thing you were working on first.”

       “Maybe to you.” The man opened a document and began typing, eyebrows furrowing again. His face was actually animated, bright with interest as he hashed out half a page of story while Stiles watched in fascination. There was no sign of the computer problem Whittemore had mentioned, though with the only thing open a word processor that actually made sense. It was like the words were just borrowing Derek’s hands to get out. When he bent down to pick up a drink he seemed surprised to find his guest still there. “I don’t let people watch me write.”

       Stiles took a step back and away so he couldn’t see the screen. “Sorry.”

       “I mean, I don’t like people in the room while I write. Go.” The boy turned, feeling a lurch of disappointment. It had seemed like the interview was recovering from its rocky start, but maybe Stiles’ bluntness was too much to handle. He was halfway to the door, a series of increasingly ridiculous explanations to Lydia running though his head, when he heard, “Cancel the library loan. Just order the books off Amazon and mark the relevant parts.”

       He stopped in surprise. “So I’m hired?”

       Derek kept typing as he said distractedly, “Yes, of course. That was more work in three hours than my last assistant did in a day. I’ll have David do your contract, it should be ready by the time we fly out.”

       “Fly out? Like on a plane?”

       That made the writer look up. “Wednesday morning. I need to be back in time for an appointment Thursday. David did tell you this is a live-in position, didn’t he?”

       He looked worried. Stiles hurried to say, “Yeah. I mean yes, he did.”

       “And that I live outside Seattle? He told me you wanted something outside California.”

       “Did he tell you I have an infant daughter?”

       Derek waved a hand, relaxing. “It’s fine. I don’t mind if you have her while you’re working at home. So, Wednesday morning at eight, Beacon Hills Air Field? Unless you need more time to get ready?”

       Wednesday was two days away. This was moving ridiculously fast. Stiles thought hard, then decided to go for it. He couldn’t risk losing what seemed like a perfect position, not if he didn’t want to end up across the country. “No, we’ll be good to go. Do we need to bring furniture?”

       “No, my house is furnished. Isaac will arrange everything there.”

       “Isaac?” the boy repeated. “I thought I was applying to be your assistant.”

       “My personal and research assistant, yes. You’ll be handling my schedule too, but I can teach you that. Research skills are harder to find.” Derek went back to typing. “Isaac is the housekeeper. Erica handles my security. Boyd is my sister Cora’s coach but is married to Erica, so he lives there, too. You can meet them later.”

       Stiles nodded, dizzy with relief. “Sounds good.” He saw Derek’s eyes flicking back to the laptop and shelved his other questions. “So, uh, I’ll talk to Mr. Whittemore about what I need for the move, all right? And I’m gonna need your Amazon password. For the books.”

       The writer relaxed visibly. “My last assistant left them on a sheet. David should have it with your other paperwork.”

       Whoa, that didn’t sound dangerous or anything. Stiles made a mental note to change every password and check for weird purchases. “Right. Okay. See you Wednesday at eight, then.”

       A distracted nod was all the answer he got, but that didn’t matter. For the first time since he’d brought Hallie home Stiles felt like he knew what he was doing. He had a good job, somewhere to live where his father could reasonably visit, and best of all Hallie. Maybe in another year or so he could even work in some college classes at night. Things were looking up. He pulled out his phone, wanting to give his dad the good news before getting into the contract.

       Good news or not, they had a lot to do before Wednesday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mr. Whittemore talks about Peter's attack and how it left Derek with a head injury. Traumatic Brain Injuries can have a wide ray of effects, but for this I've decided Derek suffers from severe headaches, some disordered memory, and petit mal seizures- basically staring seizures. Having some of those problems myself I've just written from experience, but I make no claim that it's what other TBI sufferers experience.


	9. Chapter Nine: Getting up is the Hard Part

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles starts his new job. Probably. If he doesn't get fired on the first day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is a weird length. I was trying to figure out where to break for this chapter since this part didn't fall neatly into the 2K-ish chunks I've been doing. In the end I figured you'd rather have it posted frequently than evenly, so voila!

            Stiles knew from the start that he had to move, so he’d tried to keep Hallie’s belongings to a minimum. He’d been using a Swedish-style baby box for her crib, liking both its healthiness and its disposability. The plan had been for everything she had to fit into the box until he knew where he’d be living. To that end kept all her things in a cardboard box next to her bed, measuring each to make sure he didn’t go over his self-imposed allowance.

            There were now two boxes and a swing.

            “Why did I do this to myself?” he groaned as he tried to cram the last batch of teensy baby clothes into his duffel bag. “What was I thinking?”

            Scott, busy fitting the disassembled swing into a suitcase already half-full, blew hair from his eyes. “You were thinking she sleeps when she’s in this stupid thing and you could take a shower without parking her stroller outside the tub.”

            That was true. Stiles gave the swing a fond look and said, “I love that thing. I love your mom for giving it to me. She is a genius.”

            His friend beamed, always happy to hear praise for his mother. “She really is. I think I’ve got this, but dude, there’s no way we’re getting this under three suitcases. You’re just gonna have to pay for a third bag.”

            “Airlines charge like a hundred bucks for a third bag!”

            “Yeah, but buying yourself a new wardrobe will cost so much more,” Scott said reasonably. “And Lydia will kill you if you get rid of all the clothes she made you buy.”

            His shiny new professional wardrobe had cost almost six hundred dollars, a stroke-inducing sum for Stiles, but his friend had insisted. “You need this,” she’d told him as she ruthlessly piled things in his dressing room. “Derek Hale might not be a snob, but he is a wealthy man with a staff. Staff can be incredibly harsh to new people. I refuse to let you be the shabby charity case from a Dickens story. Besides, this is an outlet. You’re getting off light.”

            Light or not, he was now lower on ready cash that he liked. Stiles told himself he’d be fine, there were no major bills between now and his first Hale paycheck. He just wasn’t happy about seeing a chunk of the money he’d saved for Hallie spent on himself. Now there were baggage fees to consider, but it was _fine_. As long as he didn’t have to flee Seattle on a moment’s notice his bank account would hold up.

            Noise from downstairs brought him out of his daze. He looked up as his father came in, Hallie on his hip and a drink carrier in his hand. “I figured you boys would have skipped lunch,” he announced. “So I brought you back some lunch. It’s on the table.”

            “Burgers?” Stiles guessed, narrowing his eyes. “Really?”

            “This is your last day in town,” John said firmly. “You deserved Jo’s Diner takeout. With curly fries.”

            His son couldn’t help being touched. Jo’s curly fries were made of magic and sunshine. “All is forgiven. Just this once, though,” he added. “Scott and Melissa are watching your diet for me, so you’d better be eating vegetables besides potatoes.”

            “Did it occur to you that I fed myself before you were even born?”

            Stiles snorted. “Yeah, and you have the cholesterol to show for it. Hello, baby girl,” he crooned, brushing his cheek against Hallie’s. She’d started making happy little noises when she saw him. Today was no exception, and he listened to her gurgles with a grin. “So you had a good day with Grandpa, huh?”

            “I took her over to the station, showed her off to the new dispatcher,” John said, bouncing her a little as they all trooped downstairs. “Then we stopped by that new baby store.”

            That had Stiles stopping short of the table. Scott pushed past him to lay out their lunches, but Stiles looked around until he saw the brightly colored rocking horse by the front door. “Dad, no! How am I gonna fit that on the plane?”

            The sheriff frowned. “Don’t tell me Hale gave you some ridiculous limit on how much you can bring.”

            “I’ve already got three checked bags, a carry-on, and the diaper bag,” his son said, reaching out to touch the rocking horse’s head. Its yarn hair was incredibly soft. “This would cost so much in oversize fees.”

            “Oversize- Stiles, do you think you’re flying commercial?” John asked in amusement. “Hale Industries has an executive jet.”

            The thought of a private jet had never occurred to Stiles. He rubbed his neck, embarrassed. “No one told me that. Derek doesn’t work for Hale Industries.”

            “No, but he’s a member of the board and board members have access to the jet. It’s parked over at the airport now.” The sheriff nudged him towards the table. “So stop worrying. Eat your lunch, all right?” He snuggled Hallie, who had been fussing at the lack of attention. “And let me spoil my granddaughter while I have the chance.”

            His words made the boy bite his lip. He sat and pulled his lunch over, unwrapping it while he tried to find words. “Dad, I’m-”

            “Don’t say you’re sorry,” John interrupted. He smiled, tense and slightly sad. “This isn’t your fault. If I’d backed you from the beginning you wouldn’t be leaving.”

            Stiles toyed with a curly fry, then blurted, “I know everyone thinks I’m letting Heather push me around. I know it’s unfair, but I can’t risk anything that might take Hallie away. Not even for a day. If we push her she might do something drastic and I won’t take that chance.”

            “No one would take Hallie,” Scott said through a mouthful of fries. “You’re like the best dad ever. You know all her weird noises. Yesterday you made a bottle in your sleep and while I was making fun of you she started crying for it.”

            He’d been extra proud of that one. “Yeah, but her parents have money. We don’t. Mr. Whittemore already said he wouldn’t take any cases against them, so we’re screwed if her parents changed their minds about raising a girl.”

            “Fathers win over grandparents,” John said. “Even teenaged fathers, and you’re almost eighteen.”

            The boy set his shoulders. “They could get visitation or something. I don’t want them around her, okay? If leaving the state makes that less likely I’m all for it. I just…” He met his father’s eyes. “I just feel bad for taking her away from you, Dad.”

            “Every bird leaves the nest sometime.” The man gave him a one-armed hug, then kissed his forehead. “You would have been gone next fall anyway. I’ll manage. Just don’t forget to Skype your old man once in a while.”

            “All the time,” Stiles promised. He gave in to the heavenly aroma and crammed some curly fries in his mouth. “Twice a week. And I’ll text every day.”

            “Me too,” Scott added. “I mean, I’ll check on you every day, at least until I’m up there. Scout out some nearby schools so I know where to apply.”

            His friend groaned and took a huge swig of soda. “You know how much it kills me that you haven’t applied anywhere yet, right?”

            The evening passed in a steady stream of banter and half-watched movies. Lydia and Jackson came for an hour, passing Hallie back and forth between them while arguing over whether her hair would stay curly. Melissa brought a pineapple upside-down cake. Mr. Whittemore dropped by in time to have a piece while giving Stiles the final travel instructions. He also brought a present: a classy Italian leather briefcase monogrammed with Stiles’ initials. “Every serious business man should have one,” he said, patting the speechless youth’s shoulder. “Have a good trip, Stiles. I’ll talk to you soon, all right?”

            Because Stiles was a personal assistant now, and assistants talked to their boss’ lawyers. He managed a smile. “Of course, sir. And thank you.”

            The visit reminded them all of the late hour. It was time to say good-bye. Lydia kissed her friend’s cheek and made him promise to keep current on science journals. “So I have someone interesting to discuss them with,” she claimed.

            Jackson had been holding Hallie for twenty minutes by then, looking alternately smitten and pissed off about it. He handed her back reluctantly and left without speaking to Stiles, which was funnier than it was insulting. Stiles was always tickled by Jackson’s guilty admiration of his goddaughter.

            Scott gave his friend a fierce hug, both of them crying and trying to hide it. “One year,” Scott whispered. “We can tough it out for one year, right?”

            “Yeah, of course,” Stiles said with a watery smile. “I’ll text you when I get there, show off my fancy new digs.” He kept his smile until Melissa ushered her son out, then slumped onto the sofa by his dad. “I should put her to bed,” he muttered. “We have to be up at six.

            John slid a hand under Hallie and transferred her to his chest. “It won’t kill her to sleep on Grandpa for one night. You get some shut-eye while you can. After this you’ll be pulling the all-nighters by yourself and working the next day.”

            It sounded terrifying, but there was a problem. “My room is weird,” he confessed. “Everything’s packed, I can’t sleep in there.”

            The Sheriff laughed softly and put an arm around Stiles, tugging him down to rest against his shoulder. “It won’t kill you to sleep on your dad one last time, either. Close your eyes, son.” Reassured, the boy snuggled in next to his daughter.

            Between one breath and the next he was asleep.

 

            Wanting to make a good impression, Stiles got to the airport at seven. He hugged his dad at the small aircraft security gate, promising to send pictures when they landed. Their emotional good-bye had already been said at home, but Hallie was the only dry-eyed one as they separated. John cleared his throat. “I, uh, ran background checks on Hale’s staff. Just to make sure they’ll be safe around Hallie. The files are in your briefcase.”

            “My briefcase, ha. Wait, really?”

            “Tell me it doesn’t make you feel better and I’ll take them back.”

            It actually did. The boy took hold of his luggage cart and made his way to the watching TSA agent, throwing a last “I’ll know if you’re eating bacon!” over his shoulder as he went. Anything more might make him red-eyed when he met up with his new boss. As it was he had to clear his throat a few times while the agent checked his bags.

            A woman in a crisp white uniform approached as he cleared the security area. “Mr. Stilinski?” At his startled nod she smiled and took control of the luggage cart. “I’m Sylvia, your air concierge for the day. Captain Julie Albright is our pilot. Is this all of your luggage?”

            It seemed like a giant pile to Stiles. Maybe businessmen travelled with more. “Yes. Is, uh, Mr. Hale here yet?”

            “No, sir,” she said cheerfully, leading him down the hall. “He likes to cut it close. I can’t remember a time he was on the plane more than ten minutes before we left. Is there anything special your daughter needs for the plane? I have milk and juice.”

            “She should be set. Thanks anyway.” Stiles followed her out a door and across a tarmac to where a sleek silver jet waited. There was an actual carpet on the staircase. He climbed it, one arm around Hallie though she seemed happy enough in her sling. Then again, she was always happy in the sling. Since Melissa had brought it the baby was content to hang out in it without fuss so long as Stiles was the one she was attached to.

            His first sight of the plane’s interior focused his distracted thoughts. There were three separate areas inside: two pairs of armchairs facing each other, a polished table surrounded by padded chairs, and a U-shaped sofa facing a flatscreen television. Everything was rich brown leather or gleaming wood. There was even art on the walls. A small kitchen sat to the left of the door, beyond which Stiles could see the pilot going over her instrument panel. The pilot swiveled around to greet him, grinning at his dazzled expression. “First time on a corporate jet?”

            The boy nodded, too impressed to play it cool. “First time on any plane, really. Hers, too.”

            “I heard we had a baby on board today. Is this your sister?”

            “Daughter,” he corrected. Enough people made the same mistake that he wasn’t offended anymore. “She’s almost a month old. The doctor said she’s good to fly, but I gotta warn you I have no idea how she’ll react.”

            Captain Albright’s smile widened. “Won’t bother me any, and Derek’s got his headphones. Don’t worry about it.” She tucked her glossy dark braids under a flat cap and turned back to the panel. “Sit anywhere. Sylvia will bring you breakfast when she gets your things stowed.”

            Only then did he notice the concierge hadn’t come up the stairs. “Oh, there’s a lot of it,” he said, remembering how short she was. “Should I help her?”

            “She wouldn’t thank you for it,” the pilot laughed. “Sylvia’s my wife. I’ve learned to let her do her job if I don’t want to lose a hand. Just make yourself comfortable, you’re a bit early.” Taking her at her word, Stiles picked an armchair. After a while Sylvia laid a coffee service on the meeting table and brought him breakfast on actual dishes. Delicious breakfast.

            Waiting wasn’t exactly a hardship.

            As predicted, Derek showed up a few minutes before eight. Dark circles under his eyes hinted at a bad night’s sleep. He walked straight to the table, poured himself a cup of coffee, and drank half before filling it again. Stiles couldn’t help feeling sympathetic. “You don’t have to stay awake on my account,” he offered.

            The man looked around blearily, seeming to see Stiles for the first time. “What?”

            “The coffee,” his new assistant said patiently. “If you’re trying to wake up enough to be social, don’t sweat it. I won’t be offended if you nap.”

            Derek shook his head. “Can’t. If I nap there’s no way I’ll sleep tonight. Better to tough it out and just go to bed early tonight.” His eyes drifted down to the sling. Hallie’s hair was pretty much the only thing visible. “Is that how you normally carry her?”

            “Since I got it, yeah.” Stiles felt a little self-conscious. “She doesn’t get in the way like this, and when I leave her alone she stresses out. I’ll find a sitter as soon as I can, promise.”

            “Don’t- it doesn’t bother me,” the writer said, sitting down at the meeting table. “I said you could have her at work. If you need a sitter, leave her with Isaac.”

            Isaac Lahey, the housekeeper. According to John’s report Isaac had been removed from his home for parental abuse and fostered with Peter Hale. When the older man went to jail Isaac stayed, eventually becoming the housekeeper. He’d never been arrested and had won some awards for his volunteer work at an animal shelter. Nothing stuck out as a serial killer, though Stiles decided to let his gut decide. “I wouldn’t want to make more work for him.”

            A brief smile curved Derek’s lips. “Isaac likes to keep busy. You’ll see.” He took another sip of coffee and looked for the briefcase he’d brought with him. “I have some things for you. A work phone, my dayplanner. There’s a list of everything I need to keep track of. You might want to check if Jen- that was my last assistant- put everything in it, she was a little more interested in flirting than working.”

            “Can’t you just share your calendar with me?”

            The writer’s eyebrows drew together. “My calendar? The one in my dayplanner?”

            His confusion was weirdly adorable. “The one in your phone.”

            “In my…” Derek pulled his phone from his jacket and held it out. “Here.”

            Stiles almost laughed- almost. He remembered the head injury just in time, and his amusement drained away. Of course Derek wouldn’t be the most technology savvy. He couldn’t exactly google how to set things up. Stiles thought hard, then asked, “How much trouble does your phone give you? Alarms, alerts, that kind of thing?”

            A shadow crossed the man’s face, and he slouched in the chair. “Whittemore told you about the brain damage,” he said flatly.

            “He said it was relevant. You’ve been through eleven assistants, he probably wanted to make sure this worked out.”

            “So now you need to know how to take care of me,” Derek continued, bitterness seeping into his tone. “What medicines I’m on, who my doctor is, what you should do if I have a seizure in front of you, am I safe around your kid or is this contagious-”

            Now Stiles did laugh. “Is this a pity party?” he blurted out, still laughing. “Because sorry dude, I’m not gonna pity you for wounds received while you were action hero-ing around saving lives.” Derek’s eyes snapped up, boring into his, and he felt a flutter of panic. “Um, unless that’s part of the job? I can totally pity you. I am a champion planner of pity parties, I can get balloons and everything.”

            The writer’s expression did something complicated under his glare. “We’re on the ground,” he pointed out. “I can still fire you.”

            Shit. Well, it was good while it lasted. Stiles cast one last longing glance at the flatscreen and put a hand under Hallie, preparing to lever himself to his feet. “Right. Yeah. Laughing at the boss is probably a bad career move.”

            “Mr. Hale? We’re about to head up if you’re both ready,” Captain Albright called from the cockpit. “Flight time is about an hour and a half.”

            Derek scowled and waved, looking more relieved than annoyed. “We’re ready. Sit down, Stiles, you’re not fired. And don’t call me dude.”

            The boy sank back into his chair. “Never again. Sorry.” He watched as Derek moved to the armchair across from him and buckled in when the older man did. “I, uh, wasn’t asking to make fun of you,” he ventured. “If you’re okay with your phone screen there are some really good calendar apps out there. We can even share one, like either of us can update it and we both get alerts. Or I can use the book, whatever works for you.”

            The writer didn’t answer until they were airborne. When he spoke his voice was gruff. “I can’t- it’s just the websites have all these flashing banners and sometimes audio plays for some reason. They give me a headache.”

            “We can work around it,” Stiles assured him. “Pay versions of apps don’t have ads, those are just for the free versions.”

            “I didn’t know that.”

            The boy kept his face neutral, non-judgmental, though for some reason his heart was pounding. “Understandable. I could vet whatever we use to make sure, and if it doesn’t work for you we go back to the dayplanner. Up to you, d- uh, Derek.”

            Derek studied his phone as if it were something new and maybe precious. At length he held it out again. “Fine. Do the calendar thing. No promises, though.”

            “None needed,” Stiles said, already scrolling for the app store. He had a few other programs to suggest, ones he thought Derek might like, but he wouldn’t mention them until later. It would only make him feel crappy if this didn’t work. “Pro tip? Your other assistants were astoundingly incompetent if no one thought about this.”

            His boss sighed and went back for more coffee. “They didn’t really know how to handle the thing. The injury thing. No one does. They help too much, or sometimes think I’m making things up because I write so fast. Every one of them was weird about it somehow.” The glance he threw Stiles was speculative. “Except you.”

            Stiles flushed, unsure what to say to that. “Thanks?”

            “I didn’t say it was a compliment,” Derek retorted, but he was smiling now. It was a nice smile, more relaxed than before. He got up and headed toward the couch. “I’m putting the game on. Let me or Sylvia know if you need anything.”


	10. Chapter Ten: Whatever You Do Don't Look Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles and Hallie move to Seattle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to point out that my beta suggested I cut most of this chapter. She says it's not really necessary for the plot, which is true. I clearly did not follow that advice. Why? Because I wanted to show you the inspiration for Derek's house. I added a floor because of accidents during typing, but you get the gist.

[The inspiration for Derek's house on Mercer Island is here. Enjoy.](http://www.zillow.com/homedetails/8798-N-Mercer-Way-Mercer-Island-WA-98040/49082478_zpid/)

 

 

            The first sight of Derek’s house nearly unraveled Stiles’ cautious optimism. He’d known the house was on Mercer Island, an upperclass neighborhood technically closer to Bellevue than Seattle. He didn’t know that on an island full of gorgeous houses and fancy boats Derek’s house still stood out. Graceful blue-grey walls rose three stories to a slate roof with plenty of white-trimmed windows and cupolas on either side. There was a detached two-story garage to the right with space for four cars. Out back he could see a pool, a cabana, and even a long dock with a small yacht tied up.

            “This isn’t a house,” he declared, staring up in awe. “This is a palace.”

            Erica, the blonde woman who’d picked them up at the airport, smirked at him as she opened the trunk. “Don’t worry, Eliza,” she purred. “You get used to it.”

            The boy transferred Hallie from carseat to sling. “Seriously, a My Fair Lady reference? You don’t seem the type.”

            She didn’t, either. Erica Reyes worse tight red jeans, a plunging top, and a well-worn leather jacket with red lipstick even at eleven in the morning. The woman’s smirk widened at his covert appraisal. “I’m not. We do a movie night a few times a month and Isaac is a sucker for that crap.”

            Derek slid out of the car and stretched. He picked up his briefcase, eyeing the growing piles of luggage coming out of the trunk. “Speaking of Isaac, I don’t know where he wants to put our new addition.”

            “Ah yes, where to put the screaming baby,” she said with a sigh. “I’m so glad we live over the garage.”

            “She’s not- she doesn’t scream that often,” Stiles said defensively. The others gave him incredulous looks, and he flushed. “Look, she doesn’t like being woken up suddenly, okay? If you hadn’t done a wolf-whistle she’d’ve been just fine, and she chilled out really fast.”

            Erica snorted as she manhandled two suitcases towards the door. “She cried the entire drive home.”

            “Not the entire way, don’t be melodramatic.” Derek took his own suitcase and waved for Stiles to leave the rest. “Erica can come bring them up.”

            “I’m a bodyguard, not a bellhop,” she snarked.

            He aimed his angry eyebrows at her. “You’re a bellhop today.”

            The woman tossed her hair, sulking. “What, I have to haul the new secretary’s crap around just ‘cause he’s got a cute butt?”

            Stiles banged his head on the car door and had to scramble not to drop Hallie. Derek put a hand out to steady him, turning his scowl back on Erica as the baby let out a shrill cry. “No, you have to haul it around because you woke Halina. Again.”

            “She’s fine,” the boy assured him as he jiggled her. “I just scared her for a second. Shh, baby girl, you’re okay.” Hallie curled a hand around his finger, and her cries changed tenor. Resigned, he confessed, “Uh, she actually probably wants to eat. I’ve got about five minutes to get a bottle in her face before she gets really mad. Where’s your kitchen?”

            Derek looked hunted. “Erica, can you-”

            “I’ve got the bags,” Erica said at once. “Out here. Where it’s quiet. You two go have fun.”

            This was not how his first day was supposed to go. Stiles managed to smile, rubbing his daughter’s back to slow the meltdown, and started walking towards the front door. “On second thought, I can find it on my own. You probably want to put your stuff away.”

            The man hesitated. “I could help-”

            “Honestly, it can’t be that hard to find a kitchen. I got this.”

            Derek’s expression melted into almost comic relief. He strode forward to open the door, holding it for Stiles and an increasingly upset Hallie. “The kitchen is through the entrance, past the sitting room and to the left,” he said, shoving the diaper bag up as it threatened to fall. “Take some time to settle in. We can talk about work hours over lunch.”

            “Right. Thanks.” Stiles hurried through an incredible open entryway, trying to keep from gawking the balcony and stone accent wall and shit, was that a fireplace? _Focus, Stiles,_ he told himself as Hallie’s wails shifted to a higher note. Screaming babies the first day was a good way to make Derek rethink hiring a teenaged single father. She didn’t cry very often, but when she did there was a very narrow window to avoid utter misery on everyone’s parts.

            A tall, lanky man with riotous blond curls popped out of a side hallway. His eyes went straight to Hallie. “I thought I heard a baby,” he said, sounding way too excited for someone presented with a crying infant. “Is she hungry? She’s probably hungry, right, I mean that’s why she’s crying?”

            John’s files had pictures, so Stiles recognized the guy. “Isaac, right? Hi, I’m Stiles and this is Halina.” He waited a beat. “Which is a much less creepy greeting than yours.”

            Isaac laughed, cheeks pinking adorably. Jesus, the guy was cute. Did Derek only hire supermodels? “Sorry, I’m sorry. Just- well, I knew there was a baby coming and I found a thing. Come on, I’m dying to try it out.” He led the way back to an enormous kitchen, white with dark wood accents and a marble-topped island bigger than most beds. A trio of obviously new devices sat clustered to one side. Isaac went straight towards them.  “Here, see? It’s called a Baby Brezza, like a Keurig for bottles. You just put the formula in the thing here and then you can push a button for how many ounces you want. I turned it on when Erica left to get you, so the water’s already warmed.”

            The sleek white machine might as well have been the Holy Grail to Stiles. “Oh my god. This is brilliant, you’re brilliant,” he breathed, digging a can of formula and a bottle from the diaper bag. “Here, you can do the trial run.”

            Flashing actual dimples, the man accepted the formula. “Thanks. How much does she drink?”

            “Uh, let’s start with four ounces. If she wants more I’ve got next.”

            The machine whirred softly, then dispensed a perfectly measured amount of formula into the waiting bottle. Stiles could have wept at how easy it was. He shook the bottle to make sure it was mixed and stuck it in Hallie’s mouth between cries. She took the with enthusiasm, tears already fading. “Awesome,” he sighed. “That was great. I thought I was gonna have to boil water. She’s so fussy about cold formula.”

            Isaac preened a little. “It’s cool, right?” He gestured at the other two machines, both from the same line. “That one is a bottle washer and sterilizer and that one is an all in one baby food maker. I didn’t know what she eats. If you’ll add whatever to the grocery list I’ll get it next time I shop.”

            “She’s not even a month old. Solid food doesn’t happen for another four or five months, maybe a little earlier,” the younger man said with an apologetic smile. Hallie let out a little urp, and he felt his smile get goofy. “Definitely earlier if she keeps up her appetite.”

            They stood watching the baby eat. She polished off the bottle, giving Stiles a chance to play with the Brezza, then fell asleep while being burped. He grinned at Isaac. “You’re my new hero, man.”

            The blond ducked his head but seemed pleased. “Food’s kind of my thing,” he said. “I do some catering on the side, which is actually why Derek needs an assistant. Before my business started taking off one of us could just run his errands and google things for him.” He moved towards the hall and a curving staircase, gesturing for them to follow. “I don’t think he was as happy with it, though. Did you know he’s written an entire book since you started doing his research? I think he’s starting another one, too.”

            A memory of seeing the half-page take form in Whittemore’s office rose unbidden. Stiles bit down on the impulse to blurt it out. “That’s cool. I honestly didn’t know it was helping so much.”

            “What, you thought he flew a teenager and a baby in from California because he felt sorry for you?”

            “Kind of,” he admitted. “I know I do good work and I know he wanted an assistant, but I figured he picked me because Mr. Whittemore asked him to.”

            Isaac made a thoughtful noise as they reached the second floor. “He does listen to the Whittemores. They were really helpful after- I mean, they’ve kept things running pretty well legally. The son is kind of a jerk, though.”

            “Careful, that’s my daughter’s godfather you’re talking about.” Stiles waited for the blond’s slight look of panic before cracking a smile. “And yeah, he’s a huge jerk. Getting Hallie would have been so much harder without him and his girlfriend, though, so I can’t hate him too much.”

            Blue eyes flicked back to Hallie. “She’s really cute. I wasn’t going to say anything if she was, you know, weird-looking, but she’s really cute.”

            “Thanks?” her father said, amused. “So which of these is ours?”

            “Here at the end,” Isaac seemed nervous as he opened the door. “You can’t judge the decor. Derek only gave me two days to do it and he told me not to go crazy since we didn’t know what you like.”

            It was bigger than Stiles’ back home, if only just. There was room for the comfortable-looking double bed. A handsome wooden crib sat in a little nook by the windows, flanked on either side by a rocking chair and a changing table. The colors were the same blue-grey-brown combination as most of the rest of the house. His suitcases stood heaped where Erica had left them with the exception of the rocking horse. That had been unpacked and set by the closet, which stood open to reveal an astounding amount of built-ins. “It’s awesome,” he said honestly. “Really, better than I expected.”

            Isaac unbent enough to smile again. “Okay. Everyone’s at lunch today to meet you, so come down when you hear the announcement.” He tapped an honest-to-god intercom by the door and left while Stiles was still gaping at it.

            He now lived in a place big enough for an intercom.

            A wave of homesickness hit him, powerful enough to make him lean against the wall for a moment. Stiles had spent the last month- the last few months- in overdrive. He’d been so focused on getting and keeping Hallie that he hadn’t given as much thought to the “after” part. Now, sitting in what looked like a hotel room for travelling parents, he came face to face with reality. This was where he lived. From today until whenever he stopped working for Derek, he and Hallie lived in this bewilderingly large house with a group of strangers with his entire family two states away. It took his breath away.

            Stiles felt the ominous stirrings of a panic attack begin to take root. He gingerly eased Hallie into the crib, then sank to the ground and drew his knees up. Ten minutes, he promised himself. He could have ten minutes to freak out before he had to unpack.

            And if it stretched to twenty, there was no one there to judge.


	11. Chapter Eleven: Ease Up To Your Feet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles settles into the house in Seattle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, people. My service dog is rather critcally ill, and I've been at the ER two hours from my house for a lot of the past week. I'm having my beta email me these chapters now, so I hope to start posting on time. If I'm slow I'm very sorry.
> 
> Also, I know this part is choppy. I had a lot of ideas for Stiles settling in and they're kind of.. clumped together... the next part is better.

 

            Time in Seattle passed faster than he expected.

            Settling was astoundingly easy. It helped that everyone seemed more or less happy to meet him. Cora was his age and already a world-class athlete in something called eventing. Apparently it had to do with horses. Stiles had to look it up online, but when he did he was impressed. Cora’s name was everywhere in the sport. Boyd, huge and stoic, was her riding coach and bodyguard when she travelled, and there were countless pictures of the two of them at competitions or in the Kentucky town where she lived part-time.

            Cora seemed excited by the newly-created Household Calendar Stiles had emailed around from the airport. “This is what I’m talking about,” she said at that first lunch. “Technology. It’s really accessible these days, and now you can stop texting me to ask where I am or if I’ll bring you froyo.”

            “I don’t text you that often,” Derek muttered, pouring her another glass of orange juice.

            His sister rolled her eyes. “You text me like ten times a day.”

            “I don’t-” A muscle in his cheek jumped. “You never tell me where you are. I worry.”

            Stiles expected a snarky comment. Instead Cora’s eyes softened, and she reached across to touch his hand. “I’ll be better. I’ll turn the GPS on my phone back on, okay?”

            There was a remorseful tone to her voice, too strong for a simple apology. Stiles thought about his employment contract, the clause requiring he keep the location active on his shiny new work phone, then remembered what his father told him about the Hales. “There’s an app for tracking families,” he volunteered, fidgeting with the baby monitor. “I could set things up so you can just open it and look. Nothing flashing or making noise. It’s easy.” Derek looked half interested, half ashamed, and Stiles added impulsively, “Also, bringing you froyo is literally my job now.” Cora shot him a look of such naked gratitude that he had to get up. “Uh, I’ve got to check on Hal. I’ll be right back.”

            After that, Cora was firmly in the Stiles Fanclub.

            Being on Cora’s good side meant he was cool with Boyd, who kept Erica from being too catty. She tended to tease him until he blushed. He’d discovered she was deeply uncomfortable around babies, though, so when she got hard to handle he shamelessly used his daughter as Erica-deterrent. One glimpse of pudgy baby cheeks and she’d decide to check the perimeter alarms.

            Isaac was just thrilled to have a friend around for X Box tournaments. Stiles knew he also adored Hallie; the guy practically begged to be her baby-sitter whenever Stiles had non baby-friendly errands. Since his payment consisted of helping with catering events (and the attendant fancy leftovers), that was more than welcome.

            The company helped when Stiles felt overwhelmed- and he was overwhelmed a lot. There was a sharp learning curve to being Derek Hale’s personal assistant. Stiles knew he’d be doing research and keeping Derek’s calendar. He just didn’t realize how full that calendar was. The man was a writer, yes, and fairly reclusive, but he kept an obsessive watch over Hale Industries. He wanted to know everything the company touched. Stiles spent at least ten hours a week going over progress reports and summarizing them in a weekly breakdown, then another few tracking down answers for whatever questions Derek had.

            The reporting used to be done by a Hale Industries intern. A very nervous Hale intern. After the first agonizing two hour briefing Stiles offered to take over just to save his sanity. His presentations were half an hour at most, forty-five minutes with questions, and Derek didn’t look murderous afterward. It was a win-win situation.

            The intern was so grateful he’d sent Stiles an actual fruit basket.

            Besides the Hale overwatch, scheduling, and the entertainingly random research questions, Stiles’ duties weren’t too heavy. They mostly involved sorting fan mail. Derek got piles of it, which Stiles told him was probably because of the brooding black and white picture on his book covers. “It’s the scruff,” he said sagely as he waggled one of the paperbacks. “Ladies love the scruff. Who am I kidding, everyone loves scruff.”

            For some reason that made Derek blush. “The publishers design those,” he grumbled, focused on the title pages he was autographing. “They got that picture from a publicity tour. My assistant told me it was fine, so I signed off on it.”

 _Yeah, I bet she thought it was fine,_ Stiles snickered to himself, though he didn’t say it out loud. Instead he set the book down and grabbed his phone. “We could probably get the publisher to do an photo shoot. You pick what you wear, shave if you want, maybe stand out on your boat. You wouldn’t look so murdery.”

            “I’m supposed to look ‘murdery’. I write murder mysteries.”

            His assistant snorted, pushing the book off Hallie’s tummy-time blanket before her waving hand could find it. “Your current main character is a time-travelling detective, Derek. The last one was an android. You write science fiction.”

            Derek squinted at him. “You read my books.”

            “You put a full set in my room,” Stiles pointed out. “Or Isaac did. I read them to Hallie at bedtime, she’s a huge fan.” The poleaxed expression on his employer’s face made him feel strange, so he held the phone up. “So new picture or no new picture?”

            They got a new picture. On the boat. Stiles, conscripted by the photographer to hold a reflector, thought that if the writing didn’t pan out Derek could definitely have a career as a model. The new picture might actually increase the fan mail, but at least Cover Derek didn’t look like a serial killer anymore. He looked relaxed and confident and smoking hot.

            Which Stiles didn’t think about, of course. He didn’t have time for a crush on his boss. He definitely didn’t have time for dating. Between work, helping Isaac, and Hallie he didn’t have time for much at all.

            Not that he regretted taking Hallie. Every day that passed convinced him how miserable life would have been without his daughter. She had a sweet, quirky disposition, always greeting him with excited flails or happy spit bubbles. Hallie started smiling way ahead of the two-month mark, followed by babbling. On the flip side she waited so long to roll over that Stiles actually took her to the pediatrician in early October. Of course she rolled over the moment doctor prompted her, just to make him look bad. Sass was strong in the Stilinski genes.

            The one problem with his new situation was his dad. Specifically, his dad’s absence. A major case had kept John from visiting even once. “It’s really sensitive,” he’d explained while apologizing. “First we weren’t sure if it was one serial killer or a bunch of copycats, then the suspects turned out to be related to some influential people. They’re looking for any excuse to declare a mistrial. Since I’m one of the key witnesses the DA doesn’t want me leaving California, or really Beacon Hills if I can help it. I’m sorry, son.”

            “Hey, no, not your fault,” Stiles assured him. He held Hallie up by the camera, waving her hand. “Hal knows Grandpa loves her.”

            His dad couldn’t help but smile. “I hope Stiles knows it, too.”

            “Duh, you send her stuff all the time.”

            “No, I meant-” John broke off at his son’s wide grin. “Idiot. Stop trying to make me feel better, I’m guilty as hell.”

            Stiles set the baby back in his lap, one hand on her to make sure she didn’t roll. “This isn’t your fault,” he said more sensibly than he felt. “You don’t have to- I can’t expect everyone to hold my hand all the time, Dad. Not anymore. I knew what I was getting into.”

            The sheriff watched him with a strange expression. It almost seemed like respect. “You keep saying that. I’m actually starting to believe it. You’re a good father, Stiles.”

            His praise gave Stiles a warm, solid sort of feeling. “Yeah, well, I have a good role model,” he said, watching Hallie’s face instead of his dad’s. His phone beeped, and he checked it. “Uh, okay, gotta go. Derek needs me to look up ladies underwear in the 1870s. Talk to you later, okay?” It was actually Isaac, but the ruse worked. John was laughing when they hung up. Stiles began wrapping his sling, pleased with himself. Maybe he couldn’t take care of his dad like he used to, but there were still things he could do to make this easier on them.

 

            One October night, not long after the panicky visit to the pediatrician, Stiles was pacing the floor with a fussy Hallie when he hear a voice behind him. “Is she sick?”

            He jerked away to find Derek in the doorway, scowling. The boy cuddled his whimpering daughter a little closer. “No, not really. Just fussy. Did she wake you up?”

            “I’m an entire floor away. She isn’t that loud.” Derek walked past them to the cupboards and began pulling down tea things. “I came down for coffee.”

            “Hate to tell you, but that’s tea.”

            The man rolled his eyes. “I know. The tea’s for you, so you can get back to sleep. I’m up to write, I can watch her.”

            Stiles chewed his lip, not sure what to say, but finally went with, “I’m actually a little touchy about who watches Hal. My dad runs a background check on every sitter we use.”

            “You let Isaac babysit.”

            “I repeat,” Stiles said pointedly, “every sitter we use. Only please don’t tell Isaac that. Now that I know what a nice guy he is it would really hurt his feelings.”

            Derek actually smiled. “I think he’d be touched. Isaac has kind of a thing about parents watching out for their kids.” He eyed Stiles, who was blushing. “Which you obviously know, having read his background report.” He set a kettle on the stove and leaned against the counter. “What if you brought that swinging chair thing into my office? You could put her in the chair and lie on my couch. If she calms down you can sleep, and if she needs something I’ll take care of it. I promise I won’t leave the room with her.”

            Hallie loved that chair. If he weren’t trying to get her to sleep he’d put her in it in a heartbeat. Still- “You don’t let people watch you write. You kick me out of your office if you so much as open a word document.”

            “Because I’m worried they’re reading things I’m not ready to share yet,” the writer said, flicking his coffeemaker on. “You look like you’ll fall asleep if you stop moving. It’s fine.”

            “She might need changing.”

            “I do know how to change a diaper.” Derek drummed his fingers on the counter without looking up. “Which you also know, since the Sheriff would have run a background check on me, too.”

            There wasn’t much to say to that. Stiles remembered the picture of a happier kid-sized Derek holding a baby sister and wanted to cry. “I wasn’t going to say anything.”

            “It’s fine.”

            “It’s really invasive, but with Hallie-”

            “I said it’s fine,” Derek repeated. He moved around the kitchen putting coffee things on an actual tray. “You have a daughter to consider. I get it. Besides, Erica does background checks on everyone in my employ so we’re even.”

            Stiles imagined all the things a background check could have turned up on him. He didn’t have a criminal record, but there were plenty of stupid high school pranks that may have resulted in police reports. “And you still hired me?”

            The writer smiled again, this one wickedly amused. “I figured anyone who could get Jackson Whittemore to recommend them after they’d put bleach in his shampoo was probably a resourceful guy.”

            That made Stiles laugh, remembering the ridiculous streaks of bleached blond running through Jackson’s hair. “He gave me crap for going out with his best friend,” he confided. “Said some really douchey things to Danny, made him cry. It’s pretty much the only time I’ve seen Danny cry in eight years of school, so. You know. Payback. Luckily they were both so mad at me they made up over emergency salon trips, and balance was restored to the universe.”

            “So why was Whittemore so adamant that I hire you? I have a feeling I could have sent those papers by courier, but he insisted I come in person.”

            A lump formed in Stiles’ throat. His friends were the best friends. “Probably he was trying to help his son’s girlfriend, Lydia. She was the valedictorian to my salutorian, we’ve been friends almost as long as me and Scott.”

            “So dragging you to Seattle helped how?” the writer asked, curious. “It’s a big move.”

            “I’m aware.” Man, was he aware. It’d taken two months to stop listening for his dad’s key in the door. “But, um. Hallie’s mother. She wouldn’t agree to me raising Hallie if I stayed in California, so. Here I am.”

            The kettle whistled, startling Hallie into a shriek. Derek jumped to grab it. “Sorry, I forgot Isaac bought this pressurized thing that- anyway, it boiled faster than I thought.”

            “It’s okay,” Stiles said over his daughter’s wailing. “She doesn’t really have the patience to do this long, she’ll stop in-” Just then Hallie quieted to disgruntled whimpers, and he grinned down at her. “That’s my girl. God, I lucked into such an easy kid.”

            Derek gave him a strange look. “Says the guy awake at half past midnight.”

            Stiles shrugged and bent to kiss Hallie’s nose. “She sleeps through the night eighty percent of the time. I pretty much won the baby lottery, didn’t I, Hal?” She proved him right by abandoning her fussing for a cheerful little burble, green eyes lighting up. Stiles was helpless against her wiles and kissed her again. “At least someone’s in a good mood. I probably shouldn’t have let you sleep all day, huh?”

            “Are you coming?”

            He noticed that Derek had finished with his tray and was standing in the doorway. The man wore a neutral expression, not annoyed or anything. Stiles decided to cut himself a break just this once. “You’ll wake me up if she gets to be too much?”

            “I’ll wake you up.”

            “Then… yeah. Let me grab her chair and I’ll be right there.” Derek nodded once and left. Stiles heaved himself to his feet. “C’mon, Hallie Bear, let’s see how Daddy’s juggling skills are.”


	12. Chapter 12: Falling Once Or Twice Is Normal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles realizes one friend isn't as good as he thought and another is unexpectedly better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, sorry for the lag. I may just publish everything else in a big lump because I'm having so much real life stress, but I'll try to keep it in these same-sized chapters as long as possible. The whole point of this being a chapter fic was for me to practice regular updates.

            Stiles drifted slowly awake. That was unusual in itself; normally he woke to Hallie’s morning chatter or an alarm. He hadn’t had the luxury of sleeping in since she’d been born. His father would have watched her, but in the beginning he’d been so anxious to prove himself that he turned down help. Of course now Stiles spent ninety percent of his time with her and would have killed for some grown-up downtime. Isaac already watched her during work. Asking for a solo movie night seemed like pushing his luck.

            He really needed to find an outside baby-sitter. With all the money he was saving by having zero life, he could probably afford one. This job paid way more than he’d thought when he considered the housing benefits.

            A voice rambled in the background of his sleepy thoughts. After a moment he recognized Derek, sounding strangely focused. “-won’t work,” the writer was saying. “A very good point, Halina. There’s no way Albany could get a job without a social security number, even at a fast food place. Maybe… what if she were hired by a rich family as a nanny?” Hallie made an interested series of noises. “Your father gave me a report on the exploitation of domestic servants the last time I texted him before dawn. It’s more common than you’d expect. If they thought she was just an illegal alien instead of an actual alien they’d hire her for cheap help. I think I’ll make the husband a stay at home trophy, just for fun.” Another excited interval of baby talk, and this time Derek actually chuckled. “Glad you approve.”

            Derek was explaining a story to Hallie. The man famous for abandoning stories if anyone glanced at them during before he was ready was brainstorming with a four-month-old girl. Stiles felt his heart melt a little at the sheer adorableness of the situation.

            Listening was beginning to be awkward, though. He yawned and stretched, cracking his eyes, then sat bolt upright as he took in the light. “It’s morning.”

            Derek gave him an amused look as he shut his laptop screen. “Morning usually follows night.”

            “No, but it’s morning,” Stiles repeated, worried. “I must have slept six hours.”

            “Seven, actually,” the writer told him. “You looked like you needed it.”

            His assistant fumbled his way out of the afghan that had mysteriously covered him in the night. “Hallie should not have been awake this long. She’ll sleep all day and I’ll have to stay up with her again. How could I just _sleep_ like that?”

            “Relax,” Derek said, gesturing to where Hallie sat on his lap. “She went out twenty minutes after you did, and she’s only been up half an hour.”

            Stiles studied his daughter. She wore the fuzzy Wookie dress from her diaper bag, meaning she’d been changed at least once, and her eyes were bright and alert. It definitely looked like she’d gotten some rest. “So you spent the whole night in here?”

            The man shrugged. “I slept all day yesterday. This is normal when I’m starting a new book.”

            “You haven’t finished the old one yet.”

            “I sent it to the editor four hours ago,” Derek told him. “Could you follow up later, see if she’s started it?”

            Stiles rubbed his face, wondering if he could get away with stubble. His wasn’t as glorious as Derek’s, but there wasn’t much he had to do outside today. “Yeah, sure. Just let me grab a shower.”

            His boss frowned. “Not today, Stiles. It’s Tuesday.”

            “Tuesday- oh, right, Isaac’s thing,” the boy remembered with a groan. He’d promised an afternoon of waiting tables at a Red Hat Lady Society lunch. “I’ll go pack Hallie’s diaper bag again.”

            “I meant your day off,” Derek said, his frown deepening. “If you spent less of your free time working for Isaac you’d be a little less exhausted.”

            That wasn’t fair. “Dude, being exhausted is like, normal for parents. I’m basically doing all day child care on top of my job.”

            “Don’t call me dude, and maybe you could let Isaac watch her a little more often,” the man suggested. “I know you’re protective, but he’s very good with children.”

            Stiles threw up his hands in frustration. “You’re not making any sense. If I let Isaac watch Hallie more I’ll have to spend more of my free time working his events. I guess I could pay him, but then I’d have to stop helping my dad.” The other man’s face darkened, and Stiles hastened to add, “Not that my dad is using me or anything. There’s just a lot of bills from when my mom was sick, and I have to pay back the hospital from when Hallie was born too.” He probably should have had Mr. Whittemore look at that contract, but too late to worry now.

            Derek stood, hoisting Hallie to a hip like he carried babies around every day. “Isaac is charging you?” he demanded.

            “Uh, yes? That’s how baby-sitting works, you pay the baby-sitter.”

            The writer stalked past him to the wall and jabbed the broadcast button on the intercom. “Isaac Lahey, get your ass to my office _right now_.” Hallie giggled, and he flinched. “Shi- sorry, Stiles.”

            “It’s, uh, she won’t be speaking for a while. Just don’t make a habit of it.” Stiles felt off-balance. “Could you please not ream Isaac out? I don’t know anyone else here and my dad is way too busy to do more background checks for me. Besides, he’s a really nice guy.”

            “Not as nice as you think.” The younger man opened his mouth to argue and Derek held up a hand. “He’s fine, okay, just- Stiles, I pay Isaac.”

            His words didn’t make sense. “Of course you pay him, he’s your housekeeper.”

            “That’s what he does in exchange for rent,” Derek said, sounding more upset as he spoke. “When Peter went to jail I told Isaac he could stay as long as he wanted, but he didn’t trust me. Peter had said some- well, Isaac didn’t think I’d help for nothing, so we made a deal. He wouldn’t be staying for free, he’d be the housekeeper. That made him feel safe enough to stay. It works for all of us.”

            “Man, does it,” Stiles joked, trying to lighten the mood. “Have you had his French toast?”

            The man blew out an exasperated breath. “I pay him to watch Halina, Stiles.”

            Ever sensitive to her name, Hallie kicked her legs. It was her new favorite trick. She could leave pretty significant bruises, but Stiles was too distracted to stop her. “You pay Isaac to… why?”

            “You kept taking on extra work.” Derek kept his eyes on the baby. “When I hired you I thought you’d be doing the same thing as the other assistants. Now you’re upgrading my computer and doing the HI reports and making spreadsheets for the household maintenance. My publisher says you took over my twitter account. Half the time you know what I’m looking for before I do, so it seemed like you needed more benefits to go with the workload.”

            “And you didn’t say anything?”

            Green eyes narrowed. “I did. To Isaac. I assumed he’d tell you.”

            “I don’t believe this,” Stiles said, anger stirring through his confusion. “I don’t be _lieve_ this, that complete asshole! How could he? You know, he’s been really nice to me the last month or so, too. Extra nice. ‘Bring me lunch on a tray’ nice. I thought that was just how rich people lived.”

            Derek raised a judgmental eyebrow. “You thought Isaac brought all my meals on trays? Stiles, you’re with me half the time.”

            “Yeah, well, I guess I just wasn’t looking to question a good thing. Shit.” He raked a hand through his hair. “What are we gonna do?”

            “You are going to take your shower,” the man said firmly. “I’ll keep an eye on Halina until Isaac gets here, then I’ll have him watch her today. Go out somewhere by yourself. What do you normally do on your days off?”

            “I take Hallie to the library, maybe the park if it’s nice out.”

            His boss made a face. “No, for yourself. Without her.”

            Stiles bit his lip, then admitted, “Uh, I haven’t actually had a day off without Hal since I got here.”

            Now Derek looked more sad than angry. “You don’t have any friends outside this house?”

            “Uh, I have Scott and Lydia. We Skype.”

            “But no one closer? Do you do anything except work here, play with your daughter, and talk to your friends online?”

            It did sound pathetic all laid out like that. Stiles moved close enough to fix Hallie’s dress where it rode up in back, trying to decide what to say. Finally he went with blunt honesty. “Look, I spend half my time freaking out over whether I’m doing well enough to not get fired and the other half worrying about messing Hal up somehow. I love this job. I actually do, so don’t get weird about it, but it’s a big jump from high school to full-time employment. Plus, I have literally no idea how to make adult friends. The only one I thought I had is apparently using me for free labor. I only seem like I have it all together because you just happen to need the things I’m good at. So, you know, I haven’t exactly gone looking for more to add to my plate.”

            Derek watched him for a moment, bouncing Hallie a little when she started grumbling. Finally he nodded as if deciding something. “Okay.”

            Stiles blinked. “Okay?”

            “Okay,” the man repeated. “I get it, at least a little. Making friends isn’t easy for me, either.” He looked up at the sound of footsteps in the hallway. “Go shower while I deal with Isaac. If you’re still all right with him baby-sitting, meet me on the dock when you’re done.”

            “On the dock?” Stiles echoed, lost again. “Like, by your boat?”

            “By my boat,” Derek said. “You haven’t had the lake tour yet. I’ll show you around, and we can get lunch up by the state park.”

            Boats went by the house all day long. Stiles had seen them, of course, and he’d seen Derek take his boat out when he wanted to write in total privacy. Erica and Boyd had even borrowed it a few times. He pictured himself sitting out on the deck, wind in his hair and nothing to worry about except whether he wanted another coke, and his anger melted away. “Oh my god, yes. I am one hundred percent fine with this plan.” He darted forward to kiss Hallie, then hugged her and Derek all at once. “You’re the actual best, Derek. Rip Isaac a new one for me, I’m going to get dressed.”

            He was so excited he didn’t notice Derek’s shocked expression, or the way his eyes followed him out.


	13. Chapter 13: Second Time's the Charm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles wasn't wrong about having a friend at the house. He was only wrong about who it was.

            It took barely two hours on the yacht for Stiles to decide he loved boating. The _Heart of Gold_ , a 47 foot restored antique, was as beautiful as she was luxurious. He’d admired her from the windows or the backyard, but being inside nearly made him swoon. There was an actual double-bed in the cabin, two sets of narrow bunks below decks, a small but complete kitchen, and a bathroom with a teensy shower. The dining table was inset with some clear substance encasing an actual working clock. Polished wood and gleaming brass accents gave the space a distinct steampunk style, completely different from the cool décor of the house. Stiles couldn’t help melting just a little at the affection in Derek’s face as he drove. It was the most relaxed the older man had been in the three months they’d known each other.

            Relaxed was a good look on him.

            Derek’s good mood was contagious enough to chase away the lingering anger over Isaac’s betrayal. Stiles hadn’t seen the housekeeper yet, but Derek had filled him in on their meeting. “Only because I know it will eat at you if I don’t,” he’d said as he started the motor. “After this we’re not talking business at all.”

            “Agreed.” Stiles sat at the table, admiring the delicate gears moving under its surface. “So? What was his excuse?”

            The writer huffed. “Apparently he figured that since he didn’t explicitly ask for your help in exchange for baby-sitting you were just being nice, or bored.”

            _Bullshit_. “And you bought that?”

            “Of course not. I’m not an idiot. My guess is that he was already used to having you as a reliable resource and didn’t want to find another employee, so he rationalized it. Didn’t seem to think it was a big deal.” Derek threw a wicked grin over his shoulder. “Until I told him how you collapsed last night.”

            Stiles raised his eyebrows. “I collapsed last night?”

            “Right in the kitchen,” his companion said. “I may have gone on about how Hallie almost  got hurt and how the doctor I called said you were exhausted from overwork. You’re taking a week off while Isaac covers for you. I’d like you to spend the first two days here so he can experience doing his job, your job, and watching Halina all at the same time. He’s got this idea that it’s easy because she mostly sits in one place while he cooks, so I want him to try carrying her around all day like you do.”

            Hallie weighed sixteen pounds at her last checkup, but after a day of wearing her he swore it was closer to fifty. “Yeah, and wait til he has to use a computer with her in his lap. She’s grabbing things now.”

            “Like curly blond hair,” Derek chuckled. “On Thursday Isaac has generously offered to fly you home to visit your father.”

            Stiles lost his smile. “That… that’s really nice, but I can’t go to California,” he said, staring at his hands. “It’s part of my contract with Hallie’s mother.”

            “The contract states you can’t live in California, not that you can’t visit.” He looked up, startled, and Derek gave him a faint smile. “Erica is very good at background checks.”

            “I guess she is,” his assistant muttered. He felt weirdly embarrassed by the contract with Heather. On the one hand he sympathized with her fear, especially when she originally wanted an abortion. No one should be forced to have a baby they don’t want, he couldn’t begin to imagine the violation of that. On the other hand he’d grown to realize how bizarre some of the terms were. For example, Heather’s parents had health insurance but they’d demanded Stiles cover the hospital fees. That was mean-spirited, nothing more than a dig at him for refusing to quietly back away from the situation. Heather could have reined her parents in a little. Instead she’d let them put whatever they wanted into the paperwork and Stiles had been too overwhelmed by his first sight of Hallie to argue. He took a deep breath, then let it out. “You’re sure I can visit?”

            Derek guided the boat around a dock into the main part of the lake. “I’m sure. There’s no time limit listed, so as long as it’s obvious you’re visiting and not moving back you should be fine.”

            “Then I accept. If you can do without me for five whole days, that is.”

            The writer actually looked conflicted, but he firmed his jaw. “This is a good thing. I need to remember not to take advantage of you, either.”

            Stiles snorted and went to the cabinets, rummaging through them until he found a bag of chips. “You do not take advantage of me. You’re painfully careful not to take advantage of me, like you think I’m going to spook and run away if you yell once.” The expression on Derek’s face made him stop and think. “Which I’m not,” he added slowly. “Going to leave, that is. Not for a while. I could be your Pepper Potts at least until Hallie’s in school. What other job would let me spend so much time with my kid?”

            Some of the tension went out of the older man’s shoulders. “She’s not much trouble,” he said, his old gruffness coloring his voice. “It’s- I like having her around.”

            Understatement, Stiles thought to himself. Until last night Derek had kept a professional distance, but he wasn’t as subtle as he thought about his interest. Sometimes Stiles would look up from his laptop and find Derek’s eyes on the activity mat, watching Hallie bat at the little stuffed superheroes. It was both adorable and heart-breaking. Stiles opened the chips to give himself something to do. “Okay, no more business talk. I’m gonna go sit on the deck and enjoy what is probably the last warm day this year.”

            The men spent the entire day out. Derek showed him the state park at the north end of the lake, where he liked to go running sometimes. They walked around there for a while, grabbed lunch at an amazing diner that specialized in curly fries (and Stiles carefully did not think about Derek knowing his favorite foods), then got back on the boat. It was amazing how much they could get done without juggling strollers and diaper bags.

            Just hanging out on the boat was fun. There were two different schools having crew practice, which Stiles thought was kind of silly for this late in the year but Derek said was normal. He produced a pair of binoculars and they sat on the deck, making snarky comments about the rowers’ form or people on the shore. The writer had a cutting wit when he wanted. It was a refreshing change from his usual grumpy introversion, and Stiles was happy to match it with his trademark sarcasm. By the time they motored back up to the dock they’d fallen into a more or less easy banter.

            They might even be heading towards friendship.

            Not wanting to get ahead of himself, Stiles made sure to bag up all the snack debris before climbing off the boat. “Well, that was… okay, I’m not even gonna try to be cool. That was awesome. Best day in a long time.”

            Derek’s return smile was strangely shy. “I don’t take the _Heart_ out as much as I’d like. There won’t be many more chances before it gets too cold.”

            “Does it snow here?”

            “Not usually, but we have some pretty icy rain. It will probably be too cold to boat by Halloween.” He hesitated. “Maybe next time we could bring Halina out, too.”

            Next time. Stiles felt himself grin broadly. “She’ll _love_ this. Thanks.” A faint, shrill cry reached his ears, and he sighed. “Back to reality. Is it mean if I hope she was screaming the whole time we were out?”

            Derek finished tying the boat up, scowling. “It would serve him right. I almost fired him, but if I had he’d have moved out and-”

            “And you don’t like to lose track of the people you care about,” his assistant finished. “I get it. Really, I wouldn’t want him fired anyway. This is fine.”

            The man stared at him with one of those unreadable expressions he was using lately, then shook himself. “As long as you’re satisfied. I’m going to check the boat over, make sure I didn’t forget anything. See you at dinner?”

            “Sure thing. Later, Derek.” Stiles headed down the dock, drawn by his daughter’s voice. She sounded more annoyed than miserable, and he grinned again. This was going to be a long few days for Isaac.

           

            Life in the house was different after that day. For one thing, Isaac was genuinely nicer. He’d been surly that first day, so defensive about his blatant theft that Stiles had gotten mad all over again, but that changed fast. Two days of running Derek’s errands- which seemed to have multiplied from his normal list- with a fussy baby in tow actually made him break down in tears. “I don’t get it,” he’d said the second night as he handed Hallie off to her father. “You’re always so damned cheerful. Like, even when you’re tired. You made this look easy.”

            “Uh, I guarantee you I’m not cheerful when I’m tired,” Stiles told him. He blew across his daughter’s hair, a trick that never failed to make her laugh. “And if I make it look easy, well, think about it. I’m seventeen. I have to look competent or no one takes me seriously. Do you know how hard it is to talk to the Hale Industries execs with a baby strapped to you and not get laughed at?”

            “I do now,” Isaac said ruefully. “Ms. Davison kicked me out. She said to wish you a fast recovery because I wasn’t allowed in her office anymore. All I did was make a cup of coffee.”

            His friend winced. Maggie Davison guarded her top-of-the-line machine with the zeal of a mama bear. “Dude, did you not see the sign? People have lost hands touching that thing.”

            The blonde shuddered, rubbing his arms. “She didn’t even yell, just kept her voice light and pleasant and told me that if Hallie weren’t there she’d be ripping me a new asshole. No one else so much as blinked.”

            “She’s the Charities Director, she could fire everyone and start over.” She was also a complete sweetheart when not protecting Alfred the Expresso machine, so if she’d snapped Isaac must have been especially hopeless. Stiles felt a stirring of pity. “Look, she’s easy. Listen to what she has to say, respect that she knows her job better than anyone else and you’ll be fine.”

            “I’m never talking to her again if I can help it,” Isaac swore. “That woman is terrifying.” He looked at Stiles with a new respect. “I’m gonna be honest, I thought you mostly sat in the library and goofed around all day.”

            The younger man snorted. “Yeah, that’d be nice.” He propped Hallie on his hip and slung her diaper bag over his shoulder. “Someone picked a seven am flight for me, so I’ve got to hit the sack. You’ll have to call Ms. Davison if you’re not allowed in her office because Derek will still want that report on Monday.” Isaac’s pitiful groan made him smile. This punishment was better than he’d expected.

            Another change was Erica’s shitty attitude. She spent most of the drive to the airport swearing she hadn’t known about Isaac’s trick. It took a while for Stiles’ sleepy brain to figure out she was afraid he was going home for good. Apparently Derek had only told her to drop him off, not that he was coming back. Her palpable relief at hearing he hadn’t quit both surprised and touched Stiles. He’d assumed she hated him.

            When he returned from his mini-vacation in Beacon Hills Erica seemed determined to make him feel included. She detoured by his desk in the library daily to chat, sometimes bringing him lunch, and dragged him out with her and Cora when they went dancing. He suspected she secretly wanted a designated driver, but it was still fun to hang out somewhere he probably couldn’t get in without a Hale along.

            What really made Stiles feel at home, though, was the new friendship with Derek. He could actually call it friendship now. In a weird way the mutual background checks were a blessing. Each knew the heavy parts of the other’s background, so they didn’t have to dance around anything. They could just sit in front of Netflix and talk. Neither went out of their way to share the bad things, but they came up from time to time. Stiles talked about the panic attacks he’d had after his mother died and confessed he still had them sometimes. In turn, Derek opened up a little about his head injury. It had been far worse than the gunshot wound, which had only left a small white scar on his shoulder. He spent a whole episode of Game of Thrones venting about the crap he got from doctors for staying home so much but how that was better than having a seizure in public.

            By now Stiles had seen a few of the seizures. It just looked to him like Derek was staring off into space, sometimes with some sort of small hand or face twitch, but he bet it was terrifying to just lose chunks of time in a public place. No wonder the writer rarely left home and usually had Erica at his back.

            Derek and Stiles both tended to use the house gym in the mornings. Now they watched TV together instead of using headphones, or even spotted each other on the weights if Boyd wasn’t around. Stiles splurged on a rugged jogging stroller for Hallie and began a weekly run outside. Derek joined him when he wasn’t writing and felt all right. A few of the other regulars they passed probably assumed they were a family, but if Stiles was honest with himself that was a plus.

            A big plus.

            Not that he’d tell Derek, not when the older man had lost that stiff, watchful edge, but this blossoming crush kept him up sometimes. Derek was funny, and sardonic, and took absolutely no crap while simultaneously managing to be sweet. Also, he adored Hallie. It was like he felt he’d been given permission to touch her and now wanted to do it all the time. He’d tickle her when he passed her chair, or offer to walk her if she got fussy when Stiles was busy. Every so often he’d borrow her “to bounce ideas off of”. That basically meant thinking out loud while Hallie clapped in general appreciation of being spoken to, and it took everything Stiles had not to eavesdrop.

            The situation was getting dangerous. Stiles didn’t realize how dangerous until Lydia called after Halloween. She jumped right in with, “Are you in love with Derek Hale?”

            Stiles spat his soda across Hallie, who he’d been changing. She let out a startled shriek. He bit back a curse and dug into the wet wipes. “Where did you get that idea?”

            “These pictures you sent us, the ones at the zoo with all the pumpkins. You know, the-”

            “The Woodland Zoo’s Pumpkin Bash,” Stiles finished. It had been a riot, jack o’lanterns everywhere and pumpkins being destroyed by the zoo’s residents. Hallie had howled with laughter at the sight of an elephant stomping two pumpkins at once. “Everyone went, not just us. It’s kind of a thing here.”

            Lydia made an annoyed noise. “Then why are there no pictures of anyone else with you? All I see is you, Halina, and Derek Hale. Who, might I add, is wearing a couple costume with you.”

            “It’s not- Lyds, we were all DC characters,” her friend said, embarrassed now. “We found a baby sized Wonder Woman costume, so I decided to do Batman. Erica wanted to be Catwoman and Issac was Flash and Boyd said he’d be Aquaman because he has a man crush on Jason Momoa and really the only person left for Derek to be was Superman.” Not to mention that he looked amazing in all-over spandex. “They were group costumes, not couple costumes.”

            “Uh-huh.” She sounded entirely unimpressed. “Then what’s the deal with this hay bale shot?”

            He glanced reflexively to where the picture in question say on his bookcase. Stiles had wanted an official zoo portrait with the whole gang, but the line was so long Erica and Boyd wandered off before they reached the front. Only Derek, Isaac, and Stiles stuck it out. Then Isaac ripped his tights on the hay and Hallie decided to be the floppiest baby on the planet, so the photo ended up being Stiles and Derek holding Hallie up between them. It was adorable.

            It was also pretty obviously a family picture. Stiles bit his lip, heart sinking at the realization. “I’m not in love with Derek,” he said. Lydia huffed and started to speak, but he continued, “I’ve known him four months, that’s way too soon to be in love. But. Um. I might have a. A thing.”

            “Oh, Stiles,” his friend said, sounding impatient and sad all at once. “You know he’s older than you.”

            “I know.”

            “Like four years older than you, maybe five.”

            “I know.”

            “He might not be into men.”

            “I know.”

            “Plus he’s your boss. You’re not going to find another job this good,” Lydia went on mercilessly. “Most teen parents are on food stamps. You’re working hard, yes, but you have a great place to live, interesting work, a health plan-”

            “Lydia, I _know_.” Boy, did he know. “I’m not going to say anything, all right? I was doing a really good job of keeping this bottled up until you dragged it out into the light, so lay off.”

            She was quiet for a moment. When she spoke her voice was meek. “I’m not trying to upset you. This is- I don’t want you to get hurt.”

            That seemed inevitable, really. Derek hadn’t been on a date since Stiles moved in, but at some point he would. The very idea hurt somewhere under Stiles’ ribs. He shoved it away and made his voice light. “It’s just a crush. I had one on you for years, remember?”

            Probably a bad example, given the extreme years of pining he’d done over Lydia. She kindly let it pass. “Okay then,” she said gently. “As long as you’re being careful.” Her tone changed. “Now, tell me what you’re planning for Christmas. Is Derek flying down with you or do we have to keep presents within luggage limits?” Relieved, he let himself be drawn into casual conversation. He could worry about the Derek Thing later.

            Or never. Never was good, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is coming in for a landing. I think if I'd made each section 5-6K I would have been finished on time, but lesson learned.


	14. Chapter 14: A Fish is a Fish, No Matter How Small

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles was a champion at denial. He could ignore anything when he put his mind to it, as evidenced by how long he’d pined for Lydia in the face of her indifference. Now he put the same work into ignoring his growing crush on Derek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this posting took such a long break. If you follow me on tumblr you already know that my service dog died of cancer recently, and I've been pretty worthless through his sickness and after. I saw this story sitting in its folder today and remembered you guys haven't seen the whole thing, so... posting again. There's this short chapter, a long-ass one with some angst, and an ending that is pretty okay if I do say so myself. I hope you enjoy it, and my deepest apologies for the delay. I can't even blame my beta, she's bad this back to me for a long time.

 

            Stiles was a champion at denial. He could ignore anything when he put his mind to it, as evidenced by how long he’d pined for Lydia in the face of her indifference. Now he put the same work into ignoring his growing crush on Derek.

            It wasn’t easy.

            It wasn’t easy when Stiles went to fetch Hallie from another “brainstorming session” and found her asleep on Derek’s chest, face snuggled into his henley as he typed on his laptop.

            It wasn’t easy when Derek instituted Stiles’ Day Off. Every Thursday Isaac watched Hallie all afternoon, leaving Stiles to do whatever he wanted baby-free. The only rule was that he had to leave the house for at least an hour. If he argued Derek would shut down his laptop and ask for a ride to a movie, or a museum, or just out to the mall. Stiles argued more often than he should, but Derek never complained. In fact, he got glowing praise from his therapist for "stepping outside his comfort zone" and "rejoining the community". Stiles told himself that was why he encouraged the outings (he even almost believed it).

            Ignoring his feelings definitely wasn’t easy over the holidays. Stiles got a letter from Dalbec and Grant informing him Heather would be in town visiting family and requesting he stay away in case anyone saw Hallie. Derek scowled at the letter, muttering about having Whittemore look into things, but Stiles actually understood. Hallie looked like him- god, did she look like him, like every baby picture of himself he’d ever seen aside from her eyes. There were times, though, when he’d glance at her and see Heather in her ears, or her jaw. He was afraid one of Heather’s relatives would recognize Hallie somehow and cause trouble.

            Derek argued, then moped, then used the Hale jet to fly Stiles’ family up as a surprise present. His whole family- John, Melissa, Scott, even Jackson and Lydia. Stiles was woken two days before Christmas by Scott leaping on his bed. He swore, laughed, then (to his complete mortification) teared up when he saw everyone crowded in the doorway.

            Things were heading towards awkward when Jackson snorted. “Yeah, I’m taking my goddaughter down to the kitchen. You’re probably gonna spazz out and forget to feed her.”

            Scandalized, Stiles said, “I would never- and she’s gonna be wet, dude, it’s morning.”

            Jackson rolled his eyes and grabbed the diaper bag from where it sat on the changing table. “If you can change a diaper I’m sure I can figure it out.” He lifted a bright-eyed Hallie from the crib, unable to hide the charmed expression when she snuggled into his chest. Hallie was in a cuddling phase. “Come on, Lyds, we can put her in one of those dresses you brought.”

            “You mean the ones you picked out?” Lydia asked, giving him an indulgent smile. “Sure. Follow us down when you’re dressed, Stiles, the housekeeper’s making breakfast.”

            “His name is Isaac,” Stiles called after them. He slung an arm around Scott and grinned at his dad and Melissa. “Holy shit. I’d ask how you all got here, but the answer is probably Derek.”

            John came in for a crushing Stilinski hug. “He invited us after you got the letter. We’re leaving Christmas morning, the others have family celebrations that night, but until then you’ve got us.”

            “More than I thought I’d get,” his son said, his voice a little wobbly. He squeezed a little harder, aware of Scott thumping his back and Melissa coming to rub his shoulder. When he pulled back Stiles had his grin back in place. “Give me ten minutes, okay? Isaac’s cooking is not to be missed.”

            Breakfast was a cheerful affair. Everyone was talking, passing bowls of fruit or syrup back and forth and making obscene noises in praise to the French toast. John ate way more bacon than was good for him on the pretense of feeding Hallie (who wasn't even eating solid meat yet). Lydia and Jackson flattered Isaac with a gleam that suggested they had some ulterior motive. If that didn't result in a catering job Stiles would eat his hat. Stiles himself chatted with Scott on one side while almost holding Derek down on the other. The man kept trying to run off. If it had been real fear Stiles wouldn’t have said anything, but the wistful expression on Derek’s face told him it was courtesy behind the constant attempts. Stiles leaned close to whisper, "Dude, stop squirming. Everyone wants you here, okay? Just eat." Derek's eyes flashed to his, startled, then slid back to his plate.

            He stopped trying to leave, though. When Cora stumbled down to eat he even relaxed enough to join the conversation.

            It was perfect. The whole weekend was perfect, which was actually something of a disaster. They explored the house, bickered over board games, and got into an ill-advised lifting contest in the gym. Melissa handed out ice packs and declared a movie night, which led to everyone watching Curly Sue while the couples made out with varying levels of subtlety. Stiles couldn't stop the excited grin when Scott pointed out their parents were holding hands on the loveseat. (Talk about Christmas Miracles.) The next day Derek got Isaac to drive them all to the zoo. Hallie was her most animated at the zoo. This meant that the outing rapidly became a meeting of the Halina Stilinski Admiration Society, with all the visitors arguing over who got to hold the wildly excited baby. Stiles watched from where he walked by Derek and felt a deep contentment.

            Like he said, disaster. This was doing the opposite of quashing Stiles' emotions. Once his dad thanked Derek for all the help and Derek said, “Stiles has done more for me. He takes everything but writing off my plate, I honestly don’t know how I survived without him all this time.” Stiles wanted to jump up and kiss his stupid earnest face. Instead he gathered Hallie into a smooshy snuggle hug until she hiccuped from laughter.

            At least he wasn’t neglecting his daughter.

            But he was fine. Of course he was fine, even when Derek’s Christmas gift to Hallie turned out to be his first-ever children’s book ready to send to the publisher, complete with a dedication to “Halina Claudia Stilinski, the best writing partner I’ve ever had”. He’d had it hardcover bound somewhere. The illustrations of a dark-haired inventor child and her long-suffering father bore more than a passing resemblance to Stiles and Hallie. “I had the artist use your pictures,” Derek admitted in a low voice as Scott read the book to an enthralled baby. “Just for this version. There are different ones in case you mind.”

            “In case I mind?” Stiles said around the lump in his throat. “This is, like, a one-of-a-kind thing, she’ll love it forever. The pictures are fine.” The pictures were more than fine; Stiles was pretty damned studly in Victorian casual. He wondered if the artist always prettied people up. “But between this and bringing my family up- it’s so much. I mean, I got you slippers and a hoodie bath robe.”

            Derek gave his gift bag an unimpressed look. “With a wolf head.”

            It was adorable. Stiles beamed at it, proud of himself. “I got it off Etsy. It’s hand-made, dude.” He held up a hand to stay the inevitable rebuttal. “Sorry, I know-”

            “Don’t call me ‘dude’,” they said together. Derek actually smiled, a little flash of the humor that was pretty common these days. Stiles didn’t realize he was grinning back until he caught Lydia’s judgmental frown and decided to go sit with his daughter.

            He’d thought he was keeping himself together pretty well until Lydia cornered him after Christmas breakfast. “So about Derek.” Stiles swallowed, looking around for anyone to save him. Lydia snorted. “They’re all up getting their luggage.”

            “Why aren’t you getting yours?” he asked desperately.

            She flipped her hair. “There are advantages to dating an overcompensating manchild. Now spill.”

            Stiles blew out a gusty sigh and slumped against the wall. “I’m being good, Lydia. I haven’t done anything about my _situation_ , okay?”

            “That’s not what I mean,” the woman said, impatient. “I want to know why you didn’t tell me that Derek likes you, too.”

            Something like an explosion happened in Stiles’ head. He blinked rapidly for a moment, mouth opening and closing, before managing to say, “I… he doesn’t? I mean he doesn’t, that’s crazy, Lyds.”

            “Is it? I thought so before, but after seeing him the last few days I’m not so sure.” She pulled a small notebook from her jacket. “He touched you eighty-six times just since I started counting.”

            That couldn’t be right. “Not possible.”

            “I counted,” Lydia insisted. “He was very handsy on the court yesterday.”

            “It’s Horse, everyone’s handsy.”

            “He touched you more than Scott.”

            “Of course he did, he doesn’t even know Scott.”

            “I mean-” She stopped and flipped a notebook page. “Okay, how about this? Derek sits next to you every chance he gets."

            Stiles waved his hands to express the ridiculousness of that argument. "He's got social anxiety, I'm like safe territory."

            "I'm not even going to touch that. What about how he knew your Chinese order.”

            That was an impressive feat, actually, since Stiles was pickier about delivery Chinese than he liked to admit. “We order out a lot when Isaac’s busy, it’s not a big deal.”

            “He didn’t know what his sister wanted,” Lydia pointed out. “He knew your Chinese order, and when you were feeding Hallie last night he brought you a drink before you even complained about being thirsty, and he wrote you into Hallie’s book as the hottest single dad to ever dad. That character is the way he described you to an artist, Stiles. Derek likes you, whether he’s admitted it to himself or not.”

            Noise from the stairs made them both turn, but it was just Isaac going out to get the SUV. With Erica and Boyd visiting family for the holidays the man was on chauffeur duty. Stiles waited until he was out of sight to whisper, “Why wouldn’t he just… ask me out, though? The age of consent is 16 here, I checked, and it’s not like I’m some immature kid. Not after Hallie.”

            “He is still your boss,” Lydia said. “And you’re in a delicate situation. He could be worried you’d feel obligated to say yes if he asked you out.”

            He gave that some thought. “I talk back to him all the time, though.”

            “Not like this. Derek’s a good guy, Stiles. If you’re not interested he wouldn’t want to put you in a position where you had to flirt or get fired. Not when getting fired would mean losing your daughter’s home.”

            Which- yeah, she had a point. “But I am interested.”

            She twisted her hair up and stuck a pencil through the bun. “Have you told him that?”

            “Uh, no. If I did and he’s not into me it would be massively awkward.”

            Lydia smirked. “Looks like you’re at an impasse, then,” she said. “Unless, of course, you want to play dirty.”

            Stiles straightened so fast he almost tripped. He peeked into the new mei tai carrier Melissa had given him, worried Hallie had woken, then lowered his voice. “What do you mean, dirty?”

            The smile that stretched her lips probably should have scared him.


	15. Chapter 15: Hold On If You Want To Keep It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles makes his move. It does not go as planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I keep breaking this into more chapters. That's because the little scroll bar looks very close to the bottom and I keep underestimating how much I have left to post, but I swear we're near the end. I'm almost certainly never doing another chapter fic. It's long dumps of story for me from now on. I'm terrible at regular posting.

            It took a couple of weeks for Stiles to work up the nerve to put Lydia’s plan into motion. He spent most of that time freaking out over the idea that Derek might actually be hiding interest in him. Lydia, having done a one-eighty on the whole Derek-Stiles situation, kept reminding him of her arguments when he Skyped her to panic. “You go on actual dates almost every week,” she’d say, or, “He flew your family out for Christmas. He could just have invited your dad.” She was pretty convincing, but he couldn’t quite believe her.

            That changed on New Year’s Day.

            Most of the household had gone out the night before. Derek couldn’t do nightclubs and Stiles wasn’t legally old enough for public drinking, so they’d watched the Times Square show from the theater room. It was nice to just hang out. Then _Four Rooms_ came on after the Ball Drop, and Derek hadn’t seen it which just wouldn’t do and between one thing and another it was three before they called it a night.

            Babies didn’t care what time their daddies went to bed, though. Hallie gave her wet diaper cry just after six. Stiles rolled out of bed, changed her mostly by muscle memory, and gave her a bottle. Or tried to, anyway. Hallie was clearly in the mood for a more solid breakfast. He gave up on the bottle and yawned his way down to the kitchen.

            By some miracle Isaac had remembered to make baby food last night, so Stiles didn’t have to mess with the steamer in his gummy-eyed state. He _did_ have to choose something when he was too tired to read Isaac’s loopy handwriting. Everything had ridiculously fancy names. He’d just decided to choose by color when Derek shuffled past to the coffee maker, scowling. “Morning. Barely, I mean, why aren’t you still in bed?”

            “Phone,” Derek grunted, glaring at the Keurig like he could make it go faster. “Publisher’s got a new intern. Doesn’t understand time zones.”

            Stiles winced and turned back to the fridge. Phone calls at odd hours scared the hell out of Derek. “They’re supposed to go through me. I’ll call and read them the riot act if you-” A clattering noise made Stiles whip around. He found Derek staring at him, mouth open, the mug he’d been holding rolling away across the floor. “What? What happened? Are you okay?”

            The man started to speak, then coughed. “Fine. You, uh, is Halina sick?”

            “No, just awake and waiting for breakfast.” He grabbed the mug as it bumped his foot. “What makes you think she’s sick?”

            “Just- I mean, you don’t usually- I’m glad she’s all right.” Derek reclaimed his mug without meeting Stiles’ eyes. The tips of his ears were pink. “Take the banana. Isaac put blueberries in it, she loves those.”

            Stiles was tired enough that he didn’t question Derek’s weirdness. He actually forgot about it until Hallie smacked the spoon and splattered banana puree across his chest. His bare chest. The only thing he had on was a pair of Wonder Woman boxers. He must have been too tired for real pajamas last night. Suddenly he remembered the coffee cup, the way Derek had turned into a spluttering mess and fled the kitchen- after he’d seen Stiles.

            Shirtless Stiles with bedhead and boxers.

            “Hot damn,” he breathed, a goofy grin stretching his lips. “He thinks I’m hot. My manly chest made him drop his coffee cup.” He scooped Hallie up and kissed her face until she squealed with laughter, not even caring about the banana smears. Lydia was right. Derek was _interested_.

            It was time for action.

 

            Once Lydia knew he was on board she kicked things into high gear. Under her direction he ordered everything necessary online, making Erica smirk when it all came on the same day. “What’s all this?” she asked as she dropped a stack of boxes on the desk in front of him. “Are you building a sex dungeon? Because I don’t think your room is big enough. We could probably find space in the basement though.”

            Derek’s head snapped up from his laptop. Stiles felt his cheeks heat and stood to gather the boxes, trying to keep them out of Hallie’s grasp. “It’s not a sex dungeon, Erica, jeez. I just ordered some new clothes.”

            “You couldn’t go to a mall? Isn’t that what you and Derek do on your little play dates?”

            Normally he’d deflect that kind of teasing, worried it would make Derek uncomfortable. Today Lydia’s coaching had him shrugging like it was no big deal. “We usually just hit the movies or a park. Clothes shopping is a pain, so unless Derek needs something I’d rather Amazon it.” He waggled his eyebrows at the other man. “How about it, Derek? Need me to help you buy a swim suit or something?”

            The writer actually dropped his pen and had to duck under his desk to find it. When he came out his ears were red again. “I already have a swim suit,” he grunted.

            This was the hard part, where Stiles had to actually admit interest. If he was wrong- if he’d misjudged, or spooked Derek into firing him- he could lose everything he’d lucked into here. Seattle felt like home to him now. This felt like the biggest risk he’d taken since keeping Hallie.

            The thought of his daughter, who’d turned out to be the best thing in his life, gave him courage. He let his eyes flick down Derek’s body in subtle appreciation. “Too bad.” The green eyes widened, surprised, and Erica’s grin stretched into something a little alarming. Stiles was already heading for the door. “Do you mind if I run these to my room? I’ll be two minutes, then we can run through your schedule for next month.”

            Stiles left before either of them could reply, too nervous to linger. Hallie gave a little burble of protest from her carrier. “Be cool,” he whispered as he hit the stairs. “You heard Lydia, we have to flirt four times before we make our move.” The girl muttered, unconvinced, and Stiles made a soothing noise. “I’m impatient too, okay? But we have to get this right the first time.”

            “I knew it!”

            He pulled up short. Erica had followed him from the office, grinning wickedly. Stiles swallowed. “Uh, I was just-”

            “Rehearsing your plan of attack?” she purred as she fell into step beside him. “Talking yourself out of running back in there to fling yourself at him?”

            Traitor that she was, Hallie laughed. Stiles glanced over his shoulder. “Keep your voice down, okay?”

            “What’s the big deal? You blatantly ogled him.” Erica lowered her voice anyway. “Is this for real, then? You’re gonna make a move on Derek?”

            He bit his lip, then admitted, “I’ve wanted to for a while. I didn’t think he was interested.”

            “You didn’t think- are you dumb?” she whispered hotly. “Derek almost didn’t hire you because he thought you had pretty eyes, it was disgusting. He had a full on freakout over the phone, thought he was a creepy pedophile for being into a seventeen year old.”

            Stiles flinched. “Is he really hung up on that? Should I wait until April?”

            “Don’t you dare, I can’t live with this UST for another three months.” Erica ruffled his hair and ducked in to kiss Hallie’s head. “Okay, new plan. I’m going to go to New York with Boyd and Cora tomorrow. We’ll be gone a week. I can get a friend to stay in our place for security. They won’t come in the main house, so if Derek needs to go anywhere you’ll have to fill in.”

            Her leer made him blush. He jiggled Hallie a little nervously. “Isaac’s gonna be home.”

            “Not the whole time, remember? He’s got four events between now and then, he’ll be slammed.” She tapped his nose. “Play your cards right and you will be, too.”

            Stiles juggled the boxes to open his bedroom door. “First, you just implied I’d be banging Isaac which, no. Second, how do you know I’m the kind of guy to put out on a first date?” Her eyes went pointedly to Hallie, and his blush darkened. “Yeah, well, lesson learned. You don’t have to sexile yourself.”

            The woman followed him in, grabbing one of the boxes when he threw them on his bed. “This isn’t the same situation at all. You’re not gonna knock Derek up. Or he won’t knock _you_ up if that’s more your thing.”

            “I am not talking about this with you,” he said firmly. He didn’t even want to think about it, not when just wondering who would top made him dizzy. “Go away, Erica. And don’t say anything to Cora or Boyd, I don’t want them mad if Derek says no.”

            She tossed the box back with a pout. “You know the only reason he would is some dumb self-sacrificing ‘no one can love me and my broken brain’ thing, right?”

            Stiles pushed her ahead of him out the door and closed it. “That’s his call to make, okay? I’m not gonna push him. If he says no, well, that sucks, but he can say no even if he does like me.”

            “You are being disgustingly sensible.” Erica narrowed her eyes. “I don’t like it.”

            He managed half a smile as he reached into the carrier to adjust Hallie’s arm, which she was trying to jam under a strap. “Sorry to disappoint. I promise that if he’s into it I’ll do something ridiculous and embarrassing, okay?”

            Erica’s grin returned. “I’m holding you to that. Have a good week, Stiles.”

 

            Going back to the office was awkward. Derek kept watching Stiles instead of his laptop, and every time their shoulders brushed while going over the schedule he jolted like he’d been shocked. It was kind of reassuring. Lydia had warned her friend that things could get weird in the flirting stage, at least until Derek got comfortable enough to flirt back. “That’s why you flirt four times,” she’d explained. “He might ignore once, twice could be a fluke, three times is a sure thing but waiting for a fourth builds anticipation.”

            After a while Stiles had to go put Hallie down for her nap. Derek was writing when he came back, eyes focused in the way that meant he’d be at it for hours. Stiles spent the rest of the day organizing receipts for the accountant. By dinnertime they were able to sit with the others and talk more or less normally, though Erica kept smirking at them over her plate.

            In the morning he embarked on the second phase of Lydia’s campaign: the wardrobe makeover. He tried to be casual about it as he wheeled the jogging stroller out to meet Derek. “Sorry I’m late. It’s long run day, right?”

            Derek’s mouth dropped open. “What are you _wearing_?”

            Instead of his usual Beacon Hills Lacrosse shorts and hoodie, Stiles wore red compression shorts and a tee with YOUR PACE OR MINE? across the front. He rubbed his neck, self-conscious. “We’re doing more miles than I’m used to and the shorts were chafing, so I thought I’d try these out. Is it- do I look stupid?”

            He looked damn fine if he did say so himself. Derek clearly agreed. It took a visible effort for him to look up from Stiles’ butt to say, “As long as you’re comfortable.”

            “You know, I am.” It was true. “I totally get why women run in those little boy shorts, it’s nice not to have so much fabric around my legs. I got a few pairs if you want to try them out.”

            Derek cleared his throat, tugging at the hem of his t-shirt. “I’ll think about it. The Beaux Arts path good with you?”

            “Sounds great,” Stiles said cheerfully.

            Most of the time Derek ended up a little behind Stiles when they took the stroller, just because running side-by-side was tricky. Today he took the lead. “Traffic’s bad,” he said by way of explanation. Stiles smiled like that made sense (they were on the sidewalk for crying out loud) and didn’t say anything.

            It’s not like he minded the view.

            The next day was a gym day. Stiles came downstairs in slightly shorter shorts and a t-shirt with a weightlifting cat that read CHECK MEOWT. This time Derek didn’t comment. He didn’t even change their plan to spot each other through pull-ups, though his voice sounded a little funny when calling off the reps. Stiles counted it as a win.

            He played it cool the rest of the day. The plan called for him to behave normally but stand closer than usual. That wasn’t such a great idea with an excitable six month old strapped to his chest, so he just tried to lean in a little more often. This delighted Hallie. She took every opportunity to grab Derek’s hair or shirt until Stiles had to admit defeat. “Sorry,” he said, pulling Hallie from the carrier. “I can put her in the bouncy chair.”

            “It’s okay,” Derek said quickly. “She’s not bothering me.”

            “She’s practically pulling your hair out.”

            The writer hesitated, then said slowly, “Maybe she just wants a change of pace. I don’t mind wearing her for a while if it calms her down. You need to run errands anyway.”

            That was- okay, they’d been blurring the line between professional and personal for a while now, but this was something else. No employee would ever leave his baby with an employer while he went to the post office. This felt more like sharing childcare, like something families did, and it made Stiles warm all over. He had to swallow twice before his voice would work. “You sure? She gets pretty demanding sometimes.”

            “I’m sure,” Derek said at once, closing his computer. “I’m so far ahead of my word count I could take a week off and be okay.”

            Getting the carrier transferred took more courage than Stiles expected. His hands actually shook a little when he got Hallie settled in. Derek must have noticed because he frowned. “Are you okay? Did you eat lunch?”

            “We ate lunch together,” the younger man said automatically. “And, uh, I’m fine. Just. This is actually the first time anyone else has worn her.”

            “Doesn’t Isaac?”

            Stiles couldn’t help the snort that escaped him. “Please, and risk little hands on his precious scarves? She’d choke him out in an instant. He carries her, but he doesn’t use a sling.”

            Derek looked worried now. His hand hovered over Hallie, uncertain. “If you’d rather I didn’t- maybe this is a bad idea, I might have-”

            “I said it was fine,” Stiles interrupted. He put his hand over Derek’s, gently pressing it back against the baby. “Lots of people with worse conditions than yours have kids, and they manage fine,” he added quietly. “Isaac is right downstairs, so even if you check out for a bit he’ll hear if she starts crying. You’re going to be fine. I trust you, okay?”

            Some powerful emotion lit Derek’s eyes, and he nodded. “Okay.” He looked down and said randomly, “Isaac is still watching Halina for your day off tomorrow.”

            “As far as I know, yeah. Why, did you need him for something else?”

            “No, just-” The writer took a deep breath. “ _Lost Boys_ is showing at Central Cinema tomorrow. I thought we could drive into the city and have dinner there.”

            Central Cinema was in every tour book’s list of must-see Seattle places, though Stiles hadn’t made it there yet. “Sounds like fun,” he said, puzzled by the change of subject. “I’m in.”

            Derek flipped his hand around in Stiles’ and squeezed. “Then it’s a date.”

            His words didn’t register for a moment. When they did Stiles froze. “A… did you say-”

            “I did.” Derek flashed a small, hopeful smile. “Still in?”

            “Am I still- yes! Of course I’m still in but you- you’re asking me out?”

            The smile widened, warming to amusement. “That’s usually what date means.”

            “Don’t be smug,” Stiles squawked. It felt like his brain was boiling in his head. “This is huge! How are you the one asking me out? I was easing us into this, I had a checklist and everything.”

            “More workout shirts?” Derek asked slyly. “I might have brain damage, but I’m not stupid. I know when someone’s flirting with me.”

            Stiles laughed out loud. “Oh man, you don’t even know. I have the best one for tomorrow, it says-”

            “Wait.” The man squeezed his hand once more and let it go. “Being surprised is part of dating, isn’t it?”

            “Oh my god, we’re actually doing the whole day?” Stiles couldn’t stop grinning. “Okay, you asked for it. Fair warning, the Stilinski charm has driven off every single target to date. You’re going to run screaming for the hills inside of a month.”

            Derek raised an eyebrow. “Is that a dare?”

            How the hell could a man smirk like that while holding a baby? That smirk should be illegal. “What if it is?”

            “Then I accept. If either of us breaks it off before Valentine’s Day, you get double salary for a year. If not…” He ran his eyes down Stiles’ whole body and back up. “Well, I’m sure I can think of something I want as a reward.”

            Stiles had to step back to get some breathing room before he embarrassed himself. “Oh my god. Is that supposed to be a threat?”

            “No.” Derek’s slow grin made Lydia and Erica look tame in comparison. “It’s a promise.” He sat back down, grabbing a rattler for Hallie. “Go to the post office, Stiles. We’ll pick this up tomorrow.”

           


	16. Chapter 16: Don't Plan The Menu Before You Get Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles and Derek finally date. Things go really well- until they don't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're going to do a chapter fic with named chapters, it's really important to stick to the number of chapters you had in mind when you started or your chapter heading get weird. I might end up unnaming all the chapters.... but then, it does make it easy to find the place I was looking for... who knows?

 

 

            “You had that printed,” Derek accused the next morning. “There can’t possibly be a store that sells those.”

            Stiles grinned down at his shirt, which he’d picked over Lydia’s objections. “You don’t like it?”

            “That’s not the point. Custom printing is cheating.”

            The shirt in question was black with glittery orange writing: I DON’T CHASE AFTER MEN BUT IF HE’S GOT TATTOOS AND A BEARD I MIGHT JUST POWERWALK. “Shows how much you know. I bought this online, and I actually had a choice of colors and styles.”

            Derek’s lips quirked. “And you thought this would be a subtle hint that you wanted to go out with me.”

            “Subtlety wasn’t the goal,” his assistant said, stretching. “I was just trying to get you thinking of me as something other than your Gal Friday. How was I supposed to know you’d been longing for me this whole time?”

            That earned him a shy smile. “I tried not to. Cora said it would wear off as I got to know you and you were a silly kid, but…”

            “But I have a silly kid of my own and I needed this job to much to act up?” Stiles finished.

            He could have kicked himself for reminding Derek of the elephant in the room. To his surprise, the man only sighed. “That was the second reason I didn’t say anything. I didn’t want to make things awkward for you. Then Maggie Davison started hinting about moving you over to her department and I realized I could give you a job elsewhere in the company if you wanted to leave.” He paused his stretch to level a serious look at Stiles. “I still can. We have apartments in the Seattle tower, you could have one of those and keep your current salary.”

            “One, no way is an entire corporate apartment something a junior employee should have unless it costs _all_ his salary,” Stiles pointed out. “Everyone would assume I was a kept man. Two, I like this job for other reasons than the scenery. It works with the ADHD. I don’t think I could do an office job where it was basically the same thing every day.”

            Derek relaxed as though he’d expected a different answer. He bent for a hamstring stretch and said conversationally, “Three, it will make things much more convenient when I win our bet.”

            Stiles felt sweat break out on his neck though the day was cool. “That was really smooth. How are you smooth? Isaac told me you haven’t dated anyone in years.”

            Pleased, the man smirked. “You don’t lose natural talent.”

            They bantered back and forth as they ran, stopping only to shower before picking it back up over breakfast. It was easy, comfortable, like they’d known each other for years instead of months. They spent the day playing Wii and trying to one-up each other with stories of how pathetic they’d been. Derek argued he was worse because he’d literally written Stiles into a book. Stiles thought that was much cooler than having his old crush build him a flirtation plan for his new crush. They bickered about it until Isaac came in to say they were both idiots and could they please leave so Hallie would go down for her nap. That led to hitting Seattle early, wandering around a bookstore until it was time for the movie.

            Stiles had been ready for dating to make things weird, but the only weird part was how _not weird_ things were. It felt natural for Derek to drape an arm across the seat back, thumb digging into the back of Stiles’ shoulder when he leaned in to comment on a scene. They shared a pizza and an order of some ridiculously hipster appetizers. On the ride back Stiles put his free hand over Derek’s, only realizing it when they got home.

            “Is this too easy?” he asked, staring at their joined hands. “This isn’t weird and I almost feel like it should be.”

            Derek squeezed his fingers. “Haven’t we both had it hard enough already?”

            He had a point. Still- “You know I have a daughter, right? If this, you know, goes anywhere, not that I’m assuming but maybe hoping? Anyway, she’s pretty much the center of my universe and-”

            “Stiles, I live with your daughter,” the man cut in. His mouth twitched like he was trying hard not to smile. “I held her for two hours yesterday, I might be aware she exists. She isn’t a problem.” He raised Stiles’ hand to his lips. “Let me prove it?”

            Brain still stuttering over the ridiculously sweet gesture- who _did_ that even?- Stiles barely managed to croak, “What?”

            “I have a meeting about the book tour tomorrow, but we could take Halina to the zoo the next morning. There’s a winter carnival with face painting. She loves having her face painted.”

            That was true. Stiles might or might not have a whole box of infant-safe paint he used to decorate his daughter whenever he got bored. Hallie adored it almost as much as he did. “Yeah, she does. Did you see the awesome Spiderman I did last- hey, how did you know about the carnival?”

            Derek’s eyes went shifty. “I have a membership. There’s a newsletter.”

            “Yeah, and it comes out the first of the month,” Stiles said, grinning. “Which means you were looking in the children’s activities section before you even knew I was interested. Give it up, Derek, you’re a pushover for my baby girl. She’s probably the only reason you’re going out with me.”

            “Oh no,” the other man said, voice suddenly low and rumbly. “Halina may be a bonus, but you… I have plans for you that have nothing to do with her.”

This time the kiss was a bare brush of lips across the back of Stiles’ hand, but it sent his blood racing south. He swallowed hard and muttered, “Fuck, Derek.”

Derek smirked. “Valentine’s Day. When I win our bet.”

            Dazed, Stiles watched him climb out of the Camaro and saunter towards the house. When he could think again he scrambled to follow, wondering if he had time for a cold shower before he reclaimed Hallie.

            One thing was for sure. Derek might win the bet, but Stiles sure as hell wasn’t going to lose.

 

 

            When the rest of the household got back, it turned out they weren’t the only people gambling on their love life. “Oh my god,” Cora moaned when she found them snuggling in the den. “You had to do this now?”

            Stiles’ stomach dropped. He went to sit up, but Derek pulled him closer and raised an eyebrow at his sister. “Is this a problem for you?”

            “Only because you couldn’t wait a month,” she said grumpily. “Be honest with me. Did Erica put you up to this?”

            Behind her, Erica let out a war whoop. “Are they naked? Tell me they’re naked.”

            “We’re not naked, oh my god Erica, Hallie is right here!” Stiles held up his dozing baby as proof. “And Erica didn’t put us up to anything. I can make decisions on my own.”

            “Who made the first move?” Cora demanded. “Because there’s a side wager, too.”

            Derek snorted, though his ears were red. “This is ridiculous. I’m not encouraging you.”

            “Told you it was Stiles,” Erica crowed, bouncing on her heels. “I saw it myself in the office.”

            “That didn’t count,” Boyd said as he walked past under a pile of luggage. “The bet was first one to explicitly ask. You made those terms.”

            She waved his words away. “Well, I’m sure Stiles asked. He was working his way up to it when I left.”

            The women turned expectantly to Stiles, who mimed zipping his lips. “Sorry, guys, if Derek’s not up for sharing I’m not either.”

            “You’re no fun,” Erica grumbled. “And after I cleared the way for your week-long booty call, too.”

            “It’s worse than that.” Isaac came in with a tray of snacks and Hallie’s before-bed bottle. “They haven’t even hit third base yet. Apparently they’re doing some kind of dare where they aren’t sleeping together until Valentine’s Day.”

            Boyd gave Stiles a look of surprised respect. Erica and Cora made gagging sounds. “Disgusting, you’re dis _gusting_.” Erica leaned over her boss to steal a sushi roll. “You could both use a little nookie. Derek hasn’t had sex in actual years and Stiles probably knocked up his baby mama on his only go.”

            Cora shot her a startled look. “I don’t think we should call her that.”

            “What else should we call her? Surrogate? Accidental incubator?”

            Her sarcastic tone made Stiles wince. “Hey, whoa, can we not? Hal’s mother was my friend, okay? She did the best she could.”

            Erica rolled her eyes and took another roll. “It’s not like she cares, she doesn’t even want to live in the same state as-”

            “That’s enough,” Derek cut in, voice cold.

            Erica blushed but raised her chin. “Am I not allowed to make jokes now that he’s your boyfriend?”

            “You’re not allowed to make jokes about Halina’s mother, period,” he snapped. “Halina may not understand you now, but she will soon. No one is allowed to make her feel bad about how she was born. Enough people will do that without her friends and family joining in, and frankly I expected better from you.” He turned from her stricken face to the television screen, jaw clenched. “That will be all, Mrs. Boyd.”

            She jerked back like she’d slapped him. “Derek, I was just- I didn’t mean-”

            “I did. Good _night_.”

            It was the first time Derek had treated one of the household like an employee. Even with Isaac he’d been more like an irritated older brother. Stiles stared at his boyfriend’s profile, watching a muscle clench in his jaw while Cora practically dragged her friend from the room. Derek was pissed. Derek was pissed because someone had said something which might, one day, hurt Hallie’s feelings.

            “It’s too much,” Stiles muttered.

            Derek reached out to squeeze his knee. “I know. I’m sorry, I’ll talk to her again when I calm down.”

            “No, that’s not-” He shook his head. “Okay, I completely respect your ‘waiting until Valentine’s Day’ big romantic gesture, so you’re gonna need to hold Hallie.”

            The other man frowned, confused. “Why?”

            “Because she’s the only thing that’s gonna keep me from sticking my hands down your pants when I kiss you.”

            Derek’s eyebrows shot up. Without breaking eye contact he moved Hallie to his own lap. She woke enough to burble pleasure at the change, and the man wrapped his arms around her. “Is this okay? I mean, can we do this in front of her?”

            “Dude, it’s not going to traumatize Hal. Parents kiss in front of their kids all the time.” Stiles caught himself, aghast. “Not that I’m saying- it was an example. I know we’ve been dating like three days, I don’t expect a ring, and honestly I’m feeling really emotional over you defending her so I-” He stopped, caught by the way Derek was smirking but his ears were pink. “You know what, let me just-” He slid a hand around the back of Derek’s neck and leaned in.

            It was almost- no, it _was_ perfect, no “almost” about it. They met at the right angle, with just the right amount of pressure. No one had a huge gob of spit hanging somewhere embarrassing. When Stiles darted his tongue out, testing, Derek parted his lips and met him halfway. His mouth tasted like the craft root beer they’d been drinking, and Stiles couldn’t help the little moan that escaped him. He tugged Derek a little closer.

            “Um. Guys?”

            Isaac’s voice from the doorway made them pull apart. Stiles left his hand on Derek’s neck, reluctant to break their connection just yet. “Something had better be on fire, dude.”

            The blonde crossed his arms, unusually jittery. “It… might be?”

            Derek looked up in alarm. “Is everyone-”

            “Metaphorically,” Isaac said hurriedly. “Everyone is fine, but, um, someone named Heather Matthews just called the house line. She said she’s Hallie’s mother?”

            The words hit Stiles like a bucket of ice. He gathered Hallie back into his arms without thinking, already getting to his feet. “Is she still on the line? How did she know to call here?”

            “She saw your picture on TMZ today. Someone spotted you guys at the zoo, it’s kind of blowing up. I was gonna tell you after your movie.”

            He felt like he was going to be sick. Derek looked stricken. “I didn’t even think of paparazzi, they don’t usually- I mean I’m an author, not an actor, so I didn’t think-”

            “You didn’t think a single billionaire with a tragic backstory hanging out with a pretty guy and an adorable mystery baby would make the gossip blogs?” Isaac asked with a raised eyebrow. “It hit a few hours ago. They don’t have Stiles’ name yet, but that’s only a matter of time.”

            Stiles shot a guilty glance at his phone, where six unread texts from Lydia waited. He could guess what they were about. “Oh my god. Oh my god, okay, what did Heather say? Is she mad?”

            “She just said she was Halina’s mom, her dad got her this number, and would Stiles please Skype her right away.” Isaac held out a tablet, already open to the Skype login page. “I couldn’t tell if she was angry. She just sounded polite.”

            The tablet seemed to weigh fifty pounds when Stiles took it. He stared at the screen, stomach clenching. “TMZ. Holy shit.”

            “I am so sorry,” Derek said behind him. “This is my fault, if-”

            “Hey, whoa, stop that right there,” his boyfriend interrupted, sitting down again. “You said it yourself, we’ve had things hard enough already. Neither of us is going to angst over this. I knew you were semi-famous, I should have thought of this too, and it doesn’t change anything for me.”

            Some of the panic faded from Derek’s expression, though he still looked tense. “It doesn’t? Even if your Heather doesn’t like it?”

            “She’s not _my_ Heather,” Stiles said automatically. Something was off, something significant. He swallowed and made himself ask, “Does this change things for you? I’m young, I work for you, I’ve got Hal… the press is going to have a field day.”

            “We aren’t doing anything illegal and I’m not that much older than you. I can have our Brand Officer work something up if you’re worried,” Derek said, still watching his face. “You didn’t answer about Heather.”

            He was really stuck on the Heather thing. “What about her? Are you mad I didn’t tell you her name? Because I had an actual non-disclosure agreement.”

            Isaac blew out his breath in frustration. “Stiles, he thinks you’re going to leave. I’m kind of worried myself.”

            “That’s ridiculous,” Stiles scoffed.

            “Is it?” his friend pressed. “You literally moved to another state and gave up college because she was worried the baby might look too much like her, and now you’re all over the internet. Are you going to leave us if she asks?”

            Stiles opened his mouth, then stopped and considered the question. “I’ve done everything she wanted so far,” he said slowly, working it out as he spoke. “I took the GED instead of graduating. I signed all her contracts, got rid of all my pictures of her, moved out of state… I’m even paying back the hospital bills. Anything she’s asked for I did on the off chance that she could keep me away from Hal.” He looked at Hallie’s sleepy face, marveling as always at how much she resembled him. “But I’ve done enough. I’m not tearing her from her home just because Heather’s got a bug up her butt about a few pictures on the internet. If she wants a fight, well, I’m in a way better place for it now. We stay. As long as you’re still-”

            Derek swooped in for another kiss, stopping him. “I’m still,” he said with a shy smile. “Do you want me to leave while you call her?”

            Stiles had to tear his eyes from Derek’s mouth. That thing should be illegal. “Hell no, I need the moral support. Isaac can take off though, and maybe don’t tell the others Heather’s name yet?”

            Isaac nodded, relief on his face as he backed out. “Not a word until you say otherwise. I’ll go make sure no one interrupts you.”

            “Thanks.”

            Stiles settled Hallie in his lap and began typing in his password. Derek scooted to press their thighs together. “Should I hold Halina?”

            To keep her off camera, he meant. Stiles considered it before shaking his head. “Heather saw the pictures already. If she’s freaked out, she’s freaked out. Just… just be ready to hold my hand, ‘cause I’m gonna need some aggressive cuddling after this.” He scrolled through his contacts list until he found Heather’s name. She’d changed her icon to a picture of herself in a silver top hat, probably from some New Year’s party. It was oddly intimidating. Stiles felt like her eyes were judging him behind the novelty glasses.

            “Stiles.”

            The younger man nodded jerkily. “Yeah. Okay. Here goes.”

            Before he could lose the little burst of courage, he hit Call and sat back to wait.


	17. Chapter 17: Pockets Full of Luck

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If any of the tags are triggers of yours, check the end note. It's not a spoiler, just a warning.

            Heather answered on the first ring, like she’d been sitting by her computer. She probably had. Her hair was in the braids she liked to wear at night, but the open spiral notebook by her keyboard suggested she was studying. Stiles tried to find something to say and came up with, “Oh hey, are you busy? I can call back later or-”

            “Stiles, I’m the one who asked you to call,” she interrupted, a smile softening her otherwise serious expression. It faded as her eyes dropped to Hallie. “Wow, there she is.”

            “She’s pretty much always wherever I am.” He couldn’t interpret the expression on her face. “I can put her to bed and call back if it’s easier.”

            The girl looked up at him again. “It’s fine. I mean, I already saw the pictures and stuff. She still looks like you.”

            Stiles pulled his lips up in what was probably the most awkward smile on Earth. “Thanks. Uh, so, not to be rude or anything, but why _did_ you ask me to call? I’m sorry about the pictures, but it doesn’t really affect our deal. I’m keeping up on all the payments, I left the state-”

            “You were back a few months ago,” she said off-handedly. “The lawyer mentioned it. We decided not to say anything since you were visiting, but Mom was pissed.”

            And that- that right there broke through Stiles’ fear haze. He sat up straighter, one arm cradling Hallie a little closer. “Nothing in that contract says I can’t visit my father.”

            The girl flushed. “Of course not. I just meant-”

            “I don’t actually care what you meant,” he said. As he spoke he realized it was true. “Not anymore. Maybe you didn’t write that whole contract, but you knew what was in it. You signed it too, remember? Don’t even tell me it’s just being fair because your parents could have sent that bill to their insurance and had it paid. Instead they told a seventeen year old with a new baby to pay a fifty thousand dollar bill while moving out of state on his own. They knew how scared I was and they took me for everything they could get.”

            “Stiles, I didn’t-”

            “You didn’t what, Heather?” Stiles ran his free hand through his hair, surprised to find he was shaking a little. “Didn’t think about how hard that would be? My dad would have had to give up his job and retirement to leave Beacon Hills, and we don’t have any family to take me in. None. Three people total at the Stilinski family reunion, and only one of them is old enough to drink.”

            Heather crossed her arms, still blushing but defensive now. “You did pretty well for yourself.”

            “I got lucky, okay? Ridiculously, fairy-tale levels of lucky. Maybe we’re dating now, but Derek almost didn’t hire me precisely because he liked me. There weren’t a lot of other options. I came very close to living with the McCalls and fighting this out in court.”

            She looked down at her hands. “Why didn’t you? You could have stayed home with your dad.”

            Hallie squirmed on his lap. He kissed her head and jiggled his knee, the soothing movements automatic by now. “I didn’t actually want to ruin your life, Heather. I just wanted my daughter. This…. Well, it seemed like the best way.”

            The blonde watched him for a moment. Her eyes were troubled. “It wasn’t.” Stiles stiffened, and she hurried to add, “No, I’m not- not adding rules or anything. I’m just saying this whole thing- I was wrong to make you leave, Stiles.”

            He couldn’t have heard that right. “What?”

            “I said I was wrong,” she repeated, squaring her shoulders. “I was a little, um, messed up after the hospital. It was dumb, you know? I didn’t want her, I don’t want to be a mother, but I just got so weird when you left with her. I couldn’t stop crying, didn’t want to eat, that kind of thing. It got pretty bad. Mom took me on a cruise but that didn’t help. Finally Dad said he didn’t care if it made people talk, he was taking me to a doctor.”

            “Are you okay?” Stiles asked in alarm.

            Heather made a see-sawing gesture with her hand. “Getting there. They said I had post-partum depression. I’m on some medicine, and I go to a counselor once a week.”

            “And that’s helping?”

            “With a lot of things,” she said. “Marta- that’s her name, Marta- talked through the whole story with me. When I was telling it to someone else I kept trying to explain why it made sense, why it was okay that I asked all this of you, and I finally realized… it wasn’t. It’s not.” The girl raised teary eyes to his. “I treated you really badly, Stiles.”

            Stiles shook his head reflexively. “No, you gave me Hallie.”

            “She was already yours, Stiles,” Heather insisted. “If I’d ended the pregnancy that would have been my call, but once that wasn’t an option anymore she was yours, too. Not just mine. I shouldn’t have put all these conditions on her. The whole situation freaked me out and I blamed you and that was _wrong_. I’m so sorry.”

            He didn’t realize he was crying until Derek put a tissue in his hand. Stiles wiped at his face, overwhelmed. He hadn’t known he needed an apology until it happened, and now he didn’t know how to respond. “That’s… thanks, Heather.”

            “Don’t thank me,” she said miserably. “I can’t stand it, I’ve been… we were friends, at least a little, and the second I panicked I threw you under the bus. I can’t even cancel the stupid contract since Mom signed it for me. You’re basically banished from a whole state because of me.”

            Stiles swallowed. “Yeah, that part kind of sucked.”

            “There is one thing I can do.” Heather picked up two envelopes from the desk and held them up. “I’m sending these to the lawyer. The first one is a check for the rest of what you owe the hospital. Daddy wrote it, he says Mom’s gone overboard and enough is enough. You don’t have to keep paying.”

            Without having to pay the hospital bills Stiles would have some needed breathing room in his budget. He thought of all the things he could do: buy a safe car, find a good daycare for when he went back to school, fly his dad up to visit. It felt like he’d lost ten pounds. “That’s amazing, Heather. Tha-”

            “Don’t, I mean it.” She shoved her braids back and wiggled the second, larger envelope. “This one… the contract was pretty strict, but Dad says that since Mom signed on my behalf I can dissolve it after I turn eighteen. So, this is a notarized letter from me offering to dissolve the contract. It gets mailed on my birthday. All you have to do is countersign it and send it back to Dalbec and Grant.”

            His heart pounded so hard he could barely hear. “Are you sure?”

            “Totally. You’re totally free after October, I promise. You could even move back in with your dad.”

            Stiles looked at Derek, floored. The other man looked worried, and it took an embarrassingly long moment for Stiles to figure out why. He took a moment to arrange his thoughts, then said, “I, uh, I’m not going to. I’m already out on my own, you know? Moving home would be like going backwards.” He flashed his boyfriend a wobbly smile. “Besides, if I leave Derek alone too long he starts using Wikipedia as his only source.”

            “I would never-” Derek broke off his scandalized refusal when Stiles’ smile became a grin. “You are such an ass.”

            “Lucky for you,” Stiles quipped, waggling his eyebrows. Heather burst out laughing, and Stiles felt his cheeks burn. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry about that. We don’t usually flirt in front of the baby, which is actually a blatant lie since she’s always here and she’ll probably wind up scarred for life.”

            She waved his apology away. “I’m sure she’s fine. She looked really happy in those pictures, you take awesome care of her.”

            He ducked his head, embarrassed and pleased. “I’m not thanking you, but only because you asked me not to.”

            “Just as long as we understand each other.”

            Tired of being soothed, Hallie let out her “put me to bed right this second” shriek. Stiles gathered her up hastily. “Okay, this gets really loud if she doesn’t see her crib soon so I’ve got to go.”

            “I have homework anyway,” Heather said on a yawn. “Call if you need anything, okay? Or if you’re going to be on Ellen or something so I can record it.”

            As if Stiles Stilinski was going to be on Ellen. He nodded anyway. “Right. And I know you don’t want to hear it but-”

            She rolled her eyes and ended the call before he could finish.

            Stiles wanted to dance or cheer or maybe jump on his very sexy boyfriend for a kiss (because they kissed now, it was totally a thing). Hallie was seriously ramping up the displeasure, though, so he gave Derek an apologetic smile. “She usually needs an hour to go down when she’s like this. I’ll be back as soon as she’s out.”

            Derek shifted from one foot to another, restless, then said, “Can I come? I won’t bother you or anything, but I just want to… help.”

            His voice was hopeful. Stiles studied him over his crying baby. All at once the possibilities seemed to stretch out in front of him. He had a great job, a better boyfriend, and in under a year he’d be free from the contract. Heather didn’t want to be a mom, but maybe… just maybe Hallie wouldn’t be short in the parents department. Not if the way Derek was looking at her meant anything.

            It was foolish to hope, to make plans after a handful of dates. They were different people, from different places, and both of them had a lot of baggage. The wisest thing to do would be to take things slower than slow, not get committed until they had sorted this whole relationship out.

            Stiles had never been good at wise.

            “Sure,” he said, shifting Hallie so he could take Derek’s hand. “Let me show you the ropes.”

           

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The trigger warning is this: Heather makes a very brief reference to the fact that she'd considered terminating the pregnancy. It's not discussed or graphic, I just wanted you to know.
> 
> There will be timestamps for this at some point (definitely some fluffy family feels, possibly an explicit one if it works out), but I wanted to put this here before I forgot. Thanks to the lovely people who reminded me I hadn't done it yet, and for all of you readers who stuck with this until the end.

**Author's Note:**

> There are two references to abortion, neither graphic. Scott misunderstands something Stiles says as Heather getting an abortion in one scene and Heather mentions that it was her initial preference in another.
> 
> For those wondering when I'll get back to my 30-Month OTP fic I assure you, it's coming. I had some health issues that threw me off my fic game. The next chapter has been 90% done for some time and just needs some time.


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